Welcome to The World
by Mizu-Tenshi
Summary: The World is the newest online game to take the net by storm, and one which America finds himself engrossed in. Until he finds that he really can't log out:: America/England :: Inspired by Hidekraz's rpg designs :: DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

My first Hetalia multi-chapter fic: RPG!Hetalia AU based on the RPG designs by Hidekraz. (I've lost the link to them though)

The World is the newest online game to take the net by storm, and one which America finds himself engrossed in. Until he finds that he really can't log out. Is that strange wizard-class player behind these strange occurrences? Or perhaps he too is another victim of The World.

XX

**Welcome to the World **

**Chapter One **

XX

It was raining in Logos. The sky opened up for a torrential downpour of cold rain that chased all the players from the streets and kept the market silent but for the heavy pounding rain hammering over the stones.

Darkness made the town monochrome; the only colour against the grey-washed streets emitted from lanterns on the walls left to fend for themselves against the rain.

Canada rushed past heavy-set houses of stone and wood, his feet splashing and almost slipping over the wet cobbles. Breathing heavily as he ran, he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head with one hand, holding out his lantern in front of him with the other. Rain made his grip slippery, the light swayed precariously, threatening to go out at any moment.

He glanced behind him. No one was following him yet.

Scanning for figures waiting in the shadows, for eyes peeking from the shutters, Canada slipped down the side of a dingy back alley to a thick-set door cut into the side of an old tavern. He hurriedly took off his spectacles and wiped them on his robe. Fumbling in his anxiety to find his nose again, he managed to put them on askew and raised his lantern to the oak; yes, this was the place that they were staying tonight.

He glanced around again, fearing he had been found, dreading the sound of those sirens he could just imagine looming upon him.

"England! England!" he rasped, knocking frantically at the slippery wood. "England! It's me! Open up!"

The eye slot in the door was rolled back with all the force of lightning striking. Canada started and jumped back, clutching his robe. A pair of familiar purple eyes greeting him for less than a second before the slot snapped shut and Canada could hear the rattle of bolts sliding back and chains rattling around locks.

Canada hopped around impatiently, nervously glancing around the deserted alleyway. The door was pulled back with a creak, and a tentative square of light fell onto the grey cobbles. A hand grabbed his wet robe and pulled him in, quickly shutting and bolting the door after him.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Canada found himself on safe ground again. In the back room of the tavern, a fire was merrily devouring its coal. Tallow candles stood in mismatched stumps in the centre of the table, giving the room a luxurious warmth for him to relish in.

"Where's England?" Canada asked, finally pulling down the thick, rain-drenched hood down. He dropped it by the fire with a heavy _whump_, hoping the flames would dry the small puddle of water seeping from its folds.

Russia settled back down on a chair - _his_ chair - the last man who had tried to claim it had left three fingers short of a hand.

"Ah, he went out to get dragonsbane in Grandia. He won't be back until tomorrow," he spoke mildly, propping an elbow on the table stained with beer spills and empty pitchers.

"I thought I was going to die!" Canada moaned from where he sat on the floor, warming himself up by the fire. "Any longer and the mods would have caught me for sure!"

"Oh so you did it?" Russia smiled.

Canada froze. "Ah…err, well sort of."

"Sort of, Canada?" That smile widened coldly, sending shivers down his spine.

"I - I mean, of course!" he squeaked. "Of course I did it…it's just that…well…" he balked under the ferocious intensity of Russia's icy smile. It was when Russia seemed happy that he was at his most terrifying.

"_Matthew_?" Russia placed a warm hand on his shoulder. Canada squeaked. Russia only called people by their real names rather than their usernames when he was precariously close to doing something dangerous.

Sheepishly, Canada pulled out a small leather pouch from the pockets of his cloak. It was far less than they had hoped for and he knew that none of the gang would be pleased but what could he do?

"Will this be okay?" he asked.

XX

"Haha, look at that! Piece of cake, or what?" America grinned as he watched his stats roll up upon finally reaching level forty-five. The victory fanfare played to celebrate his achievement made his chest swell with pride; he really felt like the hero in a fairy tale.

Now if only there were a few helpless maidens to rescue…

"Yo, hamburger bastard! How much further do we have to go?" Romano threw one of his half-broken arrows at America's head. The pinioned end hit its target and bounced off without much effect. The dead bodies of the monsters they had encountered faded into stardust.

"What?" America turned around, raising his cowboy hat with the barrel of his gun. "Don't tell me you're tired! C'mon, how long have you been playing this game?"

Romano's glower could have extinguished the torches from their brackets. The whole cave seemed to grow darker and more ominous when he looked at the cheerful gunner. Sometimes, he could not tell if America was oblivious to or just refused to read his dark temper.

"When you dragged me on this stupid skirmish I didn't think it would take _four hours, _real time! I have school tomorrow!" he settled for a pout, gathering the arrows that could be reused.

"It's only eight!" America protested, his voice echoing through the hollow cave.

"It's almost four in the morning where I'm logged in from!" Romano snapped. "In the real world, I live in Tayil, remember? You know, pizza, pasta, serenades, mopeds, candlelight dinners, and eight hours ahead of you, Tayil? Never been anywhere else in my life and I have school!"

"So skip it, what's the big deal?" America shrugged.

The sound of their bickering shaking the walls, the dark and slightly dank cave with all its stalactites and stalagmites trembled under the sound of their voices, bats shrieked at them angrily but their voices were drowned under the arguing.

The third member of their party sighed and calmly sheathed his katana while his stats rolled up from their last battle.

"Well, America-san, Romano-san, we only have one more floor to complete before we clear the dungeon. Shall we proceed?" Japan turned to them calmly.

"Alright," Romano huffed, slinging his quiver over his shoulder.

The rest of the dungeon was cleared in uniform fashion. Past the hack and slash encounters that were easy enough to deal with, there were very little traps to waylay them, no forking passages to confuse them and at the end of the dungeon the final prize awaited them next to an Access gate without a final boss in sight.

America, though a little tired, was slightly disappointed at how easy it was to clear. Well, he was awesome at this game but it was _because _he was awesome that he demanded something really challenging. The worst they had encountered were those stone golems that took forever to bring down without magic.

They could do with a magic user. Although their character classes gave them a few elemental based attacks, it would have been useful if they had a magic user in the back; they would have been able to pass quicker without Romano grumbling as much.

"Well that was a waste of time." America frowned at Romano for saying exactly what was on is mind.

"Don't complain, we got the treasure!" he tapped his gun against the chest, watching the lid spring open.

The Access gate brought them back to the nearest town; the lively red-brick city of Grandia.

"Here you guys go! Split three ways!" America proudly distributed the spoils of their skirmish in three bags.

Romano juggled the coin purse in his hand. "Eh, why do I have less?" he grumbled, eyeing the rather large bulge coming from America and Japan's purses.

"Because you were useless!" America chimed. Of course he would have paid more if Romano had been a little more helpful beyond sticking arrows in things. He was a hero after all and a hero only did what was fair.

"Che! Stingy bastard!" Romano scowled, swearing that he would never join America on another skirmish if he was going to undervalue his skills all the time.

"Well then, it was a pleasure working with you but I have to leave," Japan gratefully pocketed his earnings.

"Ehhh, you're going?" America looked a little lost. He wanted to keep on playing for at least a few more hours. There were a few mini-dungeons that had yet to be explored.

"I'm not a monster. I need my sleep," Romano grumbled.

"It's only - "

"What is it about time zones that you don't understand?!" he snapped before America could say anything stupid.

"I will be making my way to the log out point as well. Will you be coming too, America-san?" Japan enquired politely.

America shook his head. "No, I'll stay for a bit. Maybe kill a few stray monsters and work on my levels." He grinned, "yeah, when you guys log on again, I'll be way ahead of you!"

Japan just nodded and followed Romano to the log-out point

Despite what America had told his friends, he was not really in the mood to fight monster, not alone anyway, but neither did he want to return to the real world just yet.

Thus America ended up wandering the streets of Grandia, glancing at other users gathering around potion shops and the black smiths. The streets were crowded - they were always crowded with the flux of players logging in and out - but today was particularly packed around the market square where the traders serenade met with the sound of loud haggling and lively chatter.

Grinning, America made his way towards the circle of stalls. Maybe he could haggle with a NPC, that as always fun. He was about to enter the market when a man in a long black cloak and a rather large bag slung over his shoulder pushed past him, almost throwing him onto the ground.

The man's escape was followed by an angry shout of; "Stop! Thief!" that made America's head rise at the sound of alarm. He whirled around, catching sight of the man's billowing cloak as he disappeared through the throng of users and NPCs.

Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed after the man who had almost knocked him down, bulldozing his way through the crowd crying; "Hey, you! Stop!" though he knew his words would only make the player speed up.

He caught the man glancing back at him, muttering a dark curse under his breath. Luminous magic circles formed around the wizard as he ran and he leapt back while twisting around to face America, shouting "Explode!" as he flung a spell at him.

"Holy - !" America accidentally let an expletive slip as he only just dodged the giant fireball sent zooming his way. Fighting in urban areas was strictly prohibited and could result in a week suspension but, he reasoned, that wizard had started it first. He pulled his guns out. "So you wanna play it that way, huh?"

Before he could take aim, the sound of the mod siren ripped through the air. Flashing red lights blinked on the edge of the street, causing other users to hurry out of the way

America glanced behind at their rapid progress and then forward again to the man's fleeing back. In the corner of his eye, he could see girl racing across the rooftops. Two large swords were strapped to her back yet nevertheless she leapt across the slates with all the grace and agility of a cat.

However, all thoughts of having a crime-busting ally were soon dispersed when the girl turned to address the wizard with a disapproving yet familiar gaze.

"What are you doing? The moderators are coming," she hissed.

"This fool is following me!" the wizard shouted back, his voice only just betraying the slight sound of panic.

"Who are you calling a fool!?" America cried, easily keeping up the pace. These magic types had no stamina at all.

The player made a strangled sound of annoyance. After a few more badly aimed fireballs missed America's head, he sighed and shouted up at the girl; "You take care of him, Belarus, I'm going on ahead!"

The girl leapt down as the wizard passed her, letting him through while blocking America's path down the street. He did not feel too comfortable fighting a girl but as she drew two bastard swords from behind, he had no choice but to prepare his guns.

Her choice of weapon and her battle stance quickly gave away her player class. A female berserker; now that was something you did not see everyday.

Nevertheless, America was not stupid enough to get into close range combat with a berserker type. Taking aim, he fired the first gun at Belarus, readying the second for defence.

The first bullet was easily deflected. America shot a second round at her head, forcing her to lift her sword as a shield. In that moment of temporary blindness, America rushed forward and dropped, skidding past the berserker's ankles in pursuit of the thieving wizard.

The man probably thought that he was safe; America found him catching his breath down the side of a narrow back alley. The moment he skidded into the alley, their eyes met and they both froze.

America was not entirely sure what made him stop himself, but the wizard must have froze from shock of seeing him again so soon. America could see the thoughts as they ran through his head; the annoyance that the girl had let him easily pass, the concern that he had been found so quickly, and the dread at the sound of the ever nearing mods.

Their moment of inertia ceased and everything cashed back into motion. The wizard jumped back in alarm, throwing a spell his way as a offensive reflex rather than a well-planned defensive manoeuvre.

"Oh no you don't!" America ducked just in time for the fireball to rip into the building behind him. Lunging forward, he tackled the man's waist, bringing him to the floor.

As they fell, the man's grip on his bag loosened. Panicked swearing followed its descent downwards as the contents of the bag tipped out; vials of odious-looking liquid, herbs and monster organs slapped onto the floor, glass shattering on the cobbles.

The contact between potions and pinions of monster feathers set of a chain reaction that formed itself in the shape of an angry rumble. Before he knew it, America was shoved backwards as the concoction exploded, scorching the walls.

A blinding flash followed afterwards. America threw his arms up to protect his eyes but he could not help but feel alarm for the wizard who had been left in the middle of that ground-shaking blast.

"Hey!" he cried out, fearing for the player's safety. He completely forgot that he could just log back in if he died, too caught up in the moment to remember. "Hey, are you okay?"

Fortunately, when the flames died down, America sighed in relief to see that the man had cast a barrier.

"Crap! I hope you're happy, you imbecile!" an extremely irritated voice reminded America of why he was in the alley in the first place. America glanced at the man's face, or of what he could see under the large black hood pulled over the wizard's head.

The man must have had the biggest eyebrows America had ever seen but also the greenest eyes ever. He wondered who would design their character like that? The green eyes, yes, but the eyebrows? Perhaps there was some sort of strange fetish for them out there in The World.

The wizard cursed and began making his escape.

"Hey, wait!" America called after him but it was already too late.

Hearing the mod sirens dangerously close, he decided that it would be better to avoid the bother of explaining what had happened; moderators could be awfully prickly sometimes.

He too made his quick getaway through the alleys, still pondering on the bizarre events that had just befallen.

XX

That's it for chapter one. There's a reasaon why England is with those particular characters. That said, any suggestions for Canada and Russia's character classes are welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you everyone for your suggestions! The classes used are not necessarily .hack specific so don't worry about suggesting a job class that doesn't come from .hack//

Summary: America receives a strange flower from a wandering bard and his sullen bodyguard, Russia wishes this were a hack n slash and England is in dire need of tea.

* * *

**Welcome to The World**

**Chapter Two**

XX

If anyone were to ask him, America would admit that he was not the most patient of people. He was awesome, yes, cool, heroic, friendly, amiable, but patient? That was not exactly his winning trait, and Japan and Romano had been keeping him waiting for at least twenty minutes.

"Damn those two. Where are they?" America scanned the busy town square, hoping to get a glimpse of them.

He sighed and leaned against the fountain, tilting his head towards the running water so that the spray hit his forehead. It was too bright and too hot for him to stand in the sun any longer. He slid the red cloth away from his neck and grabbed the sides of his brown gunner's jacket, using them as flaps to waft cool air his way.

His gaze lazily wandered over the people passing around the square. At a glance he thought he was the top of Romano's head. His eyes quickly fixed his target; there was no doubt about it, that was definitely Romano.

Straightening, America called out and was promptly ignored. Grumbling under his breath, he wrapped the red cloth around his neck again and chased after him.

"Romano? Oi, hey Romano!" America called after him, struggling against the crowd to reach him. Just where was he going when he was already late for their appointment? "Romano! Stupid tomato freak! Where are you going?" he yelled, pushing through one last time to finally reach him.

"Eh?" Romano spun around as America grabbed his shoulder. There was a look of simple confusion on his face. One which did not turn into irritation but simply stayed confused as he stared at him.

America froze.

Well, he never expected to see this.

"Ha…hahaha!" he slowly began to laugh. His chuckles grew louder the more he did so, turning into honest, roaring laughter. Seeing Romano in a sky blue doublet and purple tights with a ridiculous matching beret perched on his head was not something he would even dream of. He looked truly ridiculous, like the fool out of one of those under-funded period drama.

"Hey, Romano, did you suddenly switch character class or something? I didn't know you had enough job points to do that. What's up with that outfit, you look like a fruitcake!" he chortled, clutching his stomach.

Romano plucked the strings of his guitar in confusion. "Ehhhh? A fruitcake? Do you have fruitcake on you? Sounds delicious!" he suddenly smiled.

America straightened. That voice was definitely not Romano's and, if that was not enough to convince him that he had made a mistake, the only time Romano had ever smiled at him was when he had gotten his head stuck in a carnivorous hydrangea.

"You…aren't Romano, are you?"

Not-Romano smiled and shook his head. "Sorry, I don't know who that is. My name's Italy!"

America smiled with embarrassment. "Oh, sorry about that, I mistook you for someone else. You really look like a friend I know. That's really odd. I know the basic character bases are the same but with the customisation packages available it's really rare to see two characters that look so identical these days. Are you using an old version?"

"Eh, I'm not old! I'm only - "

"Italy!"

America was forced to jump backwards in order to dodge the large, blond-haired man rushing towards them with a look of worry softening his otherwise hard looks.

"Oh, hey Germany!" Italy waved, not the least intimidated by the large, double-handed axe slung over the man's shoulder.

Seeing that the young bard was safe, Germany sighed. Something about their manner told America that this was not unusual of the two

"What are you doing?" Germany asked, exasperated.

"Nothing. This guy mistook me for a friend of his. Isn't that cool?"

"Sorry 'bout that!" America apologised. Poor guy. He was more like a babysitter than a bodyguard to that air-headed bard.

Italy laughed. "It's okay! Here, have this.," he rummaged in his satchel, producing a large, white, bell-shaped flower, a little damaged from being kept inside the bag but otherwise beautiful. America had never seen such a flower before - in either the online or the real world. He did, however, notice Germany's lips thin into a small frown. Was he jealous? The thought amused America enough to accept the flower and watch Germany's silent displeasure grow.

"What kind of flower is this?" he asked.

"Germany made it himself! It's unique!" Italy piped.

Well that explained the man's displeasure. Poor guy probably made a present of it to Italy, America thought, suddenly feeling bad for accepting the gift.

"It smells really nice!" Italy urged him to smell it. America brought it to his nose obediently, taking a long whiff of it. That was a mistake. It smelt so strong, it made his head spin. Almost dropping the flower, he staggered backwards, coughing.

"Oh - oh God, it…it certainly does smell!" Although nice was not the word he would use to describe its fragrance.

Germany's frown deepened. "Let's go Italy," he grabbed the bard by the back of his collar, dragging him away before America could return the flower to him.

"Oh well, it was nice to meet you," Italy waved as he was being hauled down the street.

"Err…Hey!" he called after them, waving the large flower above his head but Germany was too busy removing Italy to notice and Italy himself did not seem to care about the flower anymore.

America shrugged, his hands dropping to his side. It was only when he glanced at the flower again did he notice that it was rapidly withering before his eyes. He dropped it in surprise and watched the stalk turn brown and curl up until it eventually withered to dust.

Now that was just creepy. Like something out of a horror movie.

Shaking off his misgivings, America hurried back to the square where he was due to meet his friends. They were already there by the time he made it to the fountain in the centre of the square, a look of annoyance decorating Romano's face as he paced around.

"You're late!" he snapped the moment America arrived.

"I got here earlier than you!" he protested.

"You're still late, hamburger bastard. Next time, I'll throw a tomato at your head!"

"America-san, that smell…" Japan skirted around him, holding a hand over his nose.

America looked dumbstruck. "No way! You can smell it? Some guy I thought was Romano gave me this _really_ strong smelling flower. Ugh, is the smell still on me?" he moaned. No wonder Italy had wanted to give it to him. He would want to get rid of a flower like that as quickly as possible too.

"Maybe he was hitting on you!" Romano snorted.

"You think so? It didn't seem like that to me," America replied, oblivious to the fact that Romano was trying to piss him off.

"It's really strong!" Japan stepped away, trying as hard as he could not to look too disgusted.

"I don't smell anything," Romano sniffed at him as if he were some suspicious substance, most probably hallucinogenic. America waved him away, offended.

Slowly the hand came away and Japan managed a weak smile. He was too polite to tell America he smelt like the aftermath of an explosion at a perfume factory.

"Well anyway, America-san, what dungeon would you like to try this time?"

America, slightly unnerved that he was standing in a crowded area stinking of who knew what, was relieved to finally be on the way to a nice, desolate location. A dungeon full of disfigured monsters sounded like the perfect getaway to him. Who knew, maybe he could frighten them away with the unholy smell that seemed to be clinging to him ever since the flower had withered.

XX

Canada was sitting by the fireplace, trying to find faces in the remains of the ash and half-burnt coal left in a grey lump behind the grate. Daylight exposed the true filth that he was living in; the empty bottles of alcohol on the floor, the general dirt and dust, the rusted weapons, and the dirt-stained clothes flung here and there to be dealt with sometime next month.

He looked at the trident leaning against a crate of ale. That was a health and safety hazard right there. Trip over something and whoops! skewered player. Canada glanced from the door leading off to their separate rooms to the three stone steps leading to the front of the tavern. Living in the squalor of this dilapidated, boarded up place bred bad habits.

He sighed, thought about working on that laundry, but decided that he really did not want to know if there was a nest of gargles living underneath England's spare cloak or not.

More than once, Canada attempted to talk to Russia about their next move. After a few false starts conversation had languished and now Russia was nodding off on his chair while Canada kept himself busy by sharpening some knives on a whetstone.

One whisk across the stone and the blade screeched. A second and it screamed. A third and the door to the back room burst open, creaking on its hinges. Canada jumped, almost losing a finger or two where he dropped the small blade.

"I would have been fine if you had been able to keep that fool stalled for another five minutes!" England stormed in, his face red with fury.

Belarus followed him inside, silent but displeased. The slight crease in her brow was enough to indicate that she wanted to spend her fury plunging her swords into something living and breathing.

One eye cracked open, revealing a single purple pupil that seemed almost lilac in the light. "Oh, you look angry, England. What happened?" Russia asked.

"He lost all our materials. Blew them up," Belarus blushed at first, but she took care to swiftly glare at England, sending all the blame his way and leaving her free from Russia's displeasure.

"I didn't _blow them up_ it was that stupid gunner!" England protested, slamming the door shut.

"Oh?" Russia quirked an eyebrow, his smile wearing dangerously thin.

"It wasn't my fault!" England protested, sounding more like a petulant child than he would care to admit.

Russia slowly rose to his feet. "Oh, I had not blamed you yet, _Arthur _~"

There is was; the real name. Canada could feel the tension rise in the air and scooted back a little just in case Russia decided to draw that ridiculously large sword of his.

England scowled at him. Whipping back his cloak his stance told everyone in the room that he was ready to fight the moment Russia unsheathed his sword.

"I - " he began to speak.

" - am going outside," Russia strode towards the door without letting him finish. "I feel the sudden urge to kill something…human."

"I'll come with you, brother!" Belarus eagerly followed.

Even as the door slammed shut once more, an uncomfortable silence persevered. Canada stiffly cleared his throat and began sharpening his knives again. Though he took care not to make eye contact with the dangerously volatile wizard, his gaze would flutter up to where England stood unmoving.

The screech of metal against stone was so loud it was almost unbearable.

"It's okay, England, we can start again."

"There's no time!" England started as if suddenly jolted awake. He angrily strode towards the create of ale, pushing it aside to gain access to another box beneath it. "How long have we been doing this? And the mods are getting smarter! You know what will happen if we're caught; they'll do to us what they did to Prussia!"

"Prussia was different. He was - "

"It makes no difference to them!" England snapped and Canada recoiled. Seeing him shy away, England sighed apologetically. He was too tired. He needed tea. "Honestly, everything has been going wrong since Prussia was caught, and then Germany had to take off with Italy on that crack-pot project of theirs."

"Those two are different from us so they'll be fine."

"Who said I was worried about them?" he snorted, rummaging around the bottom of the box for his secret tea stash. "Oh, just thinking about that stupid gunner makes me want to burn something! I need some tea! Where's the tea?"

Turning back to the extinguished fire place, Canada decided that it was better to just let England rant his anger away.

XX

Taking the Access gate at the end of the dungeon brought them back to Logos again, to the logging portal where players were arriving and departing. Inside the marble white building golden rings slowly revolved an inch above the ground as people passed in and out, appearing and disappearing accordingly. The Access gate was a blue and green diamond, smaller than the logging rings but with an ethereal glow that made them more conspicuous.

America felt a shiver run through his skin at the sensation of leaving the hot dungeon for the cool, regulated air inside the terminal building where the logging rings were kept.

"Alright, here's the winnings split three ways," he divided up their treasure and handed out the spoils as usual.

"It better be totally equal this time, bastard!" Romano grumbled, weighing the pouch in his hand just in case. The sound of gold tinkled merrily inside the leather bound pouch. He took out a coin and bit into it, inspecting it from every side and angle until he was perfectly content that he had not been cheated out of his hard work.

Offended by Romano's cautiousness, America pouted. "Of course it is! I'm always fair."

The expression on Romano's face told him that he would beg to differ, but rather than dwell on the subject he pocketed the gold before shoving his hands in his pocket. "Well thanks and all but I'm going."

"Huh, where're you always running off to?"

"Romano-san has been thinking of joining a guild but his levels are not quite high enough for him to be accepted," Japan explained. Romano blushed a little, perhaps embarrassed at the thought that his levels were not up to scratch.

"Guilds, huh?" America frowned. He was slightly annoyed that his thoughts had steered him back to that strange wizard he had almost caught. He wondered if that wizard was in a guild. Yes, that was probably it, and that guild was probably making him steal things! Noticing his own eagerness to validate the wizard's actions, he hurriedly dismissed those thoughts with a shake of his head.

"Well, you and me, Japan, we don't need guilds!" he boasted, hoping no one had noticed his slight lax into pensiveness.

"They're useful if you want to explore more of the game. An idiot like you wouldn't appreciate them," Romano retorted.

"Ha! The three of us could do it on our own!" America cried, enthusiastic as always. "Well, I'll be going now. My fridge back in the real world needs restocking." He made a mock two-finger salute as they saw him off, turning to the logging portal, he pressed 'log out' and stepped through the revolving ring -

- Onto the other side of the portal.

"What?" he looked back in confusion, seeing Japan and Romano standing on the other side. He waited to the portal to make another rotation, pressed the button again and stepped through. Nothing happened.

"What's wrong?" Japan asked, seeing America's bewildered face.

America looked at him in shock, wondering if this was the appropriate time to freak out.

"I - I can't log out?!"

XX

Italy was humming as he walked by Germany's side, swinging his legs and arms wide in long, exaggerated strides. While Germany walked with calculated ease, his heavy axe propped over his shoulder, Italy darted through the crowd, dancing around the stream of players before returning to smile at Germany.

"Ve, ve Germany, how much farther do we have to go? I'm hungrrrry!" Italy strummed his guitar, making a song out of the last word.

Germany smiled apologetically, reaching out a hand to pat Italy's head. "Just a little bit longer. Don't worry, we'll find a place to eat soon," he reassured him.

"I hope so," Italy nodded. "Can we go back to Grandia? That place was nice."

"We've already done what we needed there. We'll stop here for a bit and then head for the next town instead."

"You sure like flowers, Germany!"

"I do?" Germany glanced at him, his shoulders stiffening a little with discomfort.

Italy's smile could have outshone the sun. "Because you're always planting those strange looking plants wherever we get to a town, and you're always making new ones that smell really good!"

"Ah, right," Germany relaxed, daring a tentative smile onto his face. "Yes, I suppose I do like flowers."

Italy strummed his guitar, half-singing; "Germany's a nice guy! It'd be nice to get some food too. I want pastaaa~"

* * *

No America/England interaction this chapter but there will be plenty in the next chapter. I think this has been my quickest update ever. I usually take a week at the very least. I have everyone's lovely reviews to thank for motivating me. Please be kind and spare a review to tell me what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Apologies for the wait, not that it really matters anyway. Well, here's the next chapter.

* * *

**Welcome to The World**

**Chapter Three**

XX

America looked from Romano to Japan, hoping for help. A part of him still believed that he had somehow made a mistake and one of them would soon be able to set it straight. After all, logging out was a easy as breathing, when had he ever been unable to log out?

Eventually, Romano stepped forward to help, though he did so with a look that told America exactly what kind of idiot he thought he was.

"Ehhh, what do you mean you can't log out? Are you so stupid so can't press a button?" he frowned, examining the button on the side of the portal.

"See for yourself!" America cried, pushing Romano towards the golden ring.

Romano pressed the button and gestured for America to step through. He did so, only to, as before, step directly onto the other side of the ring. Romano frowned and insisted that they try once more. It was only after he had finally exhausted pushing the button that he agreed that perhaps America was not being a total moron and, yes, he could not log out of The World.

America was beginning to panic slightly. He would have infinitely preferred Romano to call him an idiot - he did that all the time anyway - and be able to log out, then for Romano to admit that he was right and not be able to log out. "W - What do I do Japan? What happens if I can't log out?" he squeaked.

"Calm down, America-san, maybe there's a maintenance error. It's probably not just you," Japan was not willing to look shocked just yet.

America suddenly grew aware that their party was missing a number. Turning back to the portal, he searched for their missing member. "Where's Romano?"

As if on cue, Romano stepped through the portal, materialising from head to toe. A green sign saying 'Welcome to The World' flashed above his head before fading wordlessly into the air.

"Hey, I can log in and out fine," he announced with enough bluntness to make even Japan wince.

"So it's just me?"

America's panic levels were reaching a dangerous peak when Japan said; "It does not seem to be a problem with the server."

Freak out mode was initiated.

"God, guys! What the hell am I supposed to do?!"

"Well, why not report it to a mod?"

"Ah, yes. Why don't we visit the forum? We can post a notice on the board," Japan proposed.

"If you think that will help," America looked unconvinced.

Despite his misgivings, America nevertheless allowed his two companions to take him to the forums - a large, imposing building of marble, which reminded him vaguely of a coliseum.

"I've never been in this place before," America murmured as he stared up at the tall arches along the outside.

"Figures," Romano snorted.

"But where do you get yours news from if not the forum?"Japan asked, trying to hide his surprise.

America just laughed it off, shrugging. "I just get it from word of mouth. There's no time for me to stand around here reading all these notices when I could be out there being a hero!"

Japan ignored Romano's mutters and proceeded inside. The large hall was home to countless wooden doors that spiralled into the sky until it reached the domed roof of the forum. Moving glass steps took players to each different door, each one sign posted with a different label, which opened up to a smaller room with yet more doors to explore. Just looking at them all made America's head spin.

In the centre of the circular hall stood a single computer terminal. It was, for most part, ignored by the other players who were walking in and out of the various doors, though occasionally the odd user would burst out in flames and had to be dowsed down by attending NPCs. America would sometimes here from within the doors a terrified shout of 'troll!' and wondered if, in actuality, the forums were a very dangerous place after all.

"Here, America-san," Japan stopped in front of the computer terminal. "I'll send a message to the moderators and they should get back to you soon," he began typing furiously, slamming his finger onto the enter key.

"Thanks, Japan! You're a life-saver!" America felt a wave of relief wash through him. Though he was still slightly apprehensive, at least he knew that something was being done. He hated standing still for anything.

Japan smiled. "I'm sure that is nothing serious. In the meantime, would you like to try another dungeon?"

"Whoa, wait!" Romano interrupted them. "_You _can try another dungeon but I have tourney to attend. The prize is Pandora's bow."

America's eyes sparkled at the though of prizes and glory. Immediately forgetting that he was freaking out not moments ago, his heart sparked with excitement. "Really? Cool! Can I attend as well?"

"What would you do with a bow? Besides, it's archers-only," Romano snorted, taking extreme pleasure in barring the over-eager gunner from competing.

"Ehh? No fair!" America pouted as Romano made his exit.

"Well, have fun," he smirked, "send me a message if you still can't log out and I'll come save your crying ass!"

"Romano-san is unexpectedly caring, isn't he?" Japan smiled, a look of content on his face.

America stared at his friend. "…Did you hear something different from what I did?"

XX

There was not much to do while waiting for the mods and, America would admit, he was impatient. He did not want to attempt a dungeon when the mods might call him any time but wandering around the streets aimlessly never suited him either.

Japan was considerate enough to take America's disposition into account and toured him around several shops selling weapons, armour and items in order to keep him busy, but there were only so many shops in Logos to visit and only so many bullets that could be bought before one was totally broke.

Soon they were reduced to watching players talk to tight-lipped NPCs for quest information and horse-drawn carts stumble between the flow of happy shoppers. America's displeased gaze swept everything in; he was never used to being idle and his limbs were twitching with the urge to do something worthwhile with his time. However, his eyes narrowed as he noticed a familiar figure waiting across the road from them.

"Hey it's that guy!" America jolted Japans' arm in his hurry to point out he person in a black cloak on the opposite side of the road.

"What guy?" Japan tried to follow America's line of sight but could only see an unremarkable crowd.

"The thief!" America pointed to a player standing by a brick shop, out of the way of the crowds mingling in the centre of the broad road.

"No, I believe he's a wizard."

"No, I mean I know he's a wizard but he's a thief! He stole something the other night!" he bristled at the thought. Maybe the man was being pressured into doing bad things by his guild, or maybe he was one of the ring leaders. Either way, it was America's duty to set him straight!

"Hey you!" he shouted as he ran up to the wizard, leaving Japan to hurry at his footsteps.

Seeing the gunner making a bee-line for him, the wizard jumped into guard, drawing out his staff from beneath his cloak.

"Fights aren't permitted in urban area. Unless you want the mods on you again!" America snorted as he reached the wizard, and then grinned triumphantly as the wizard reluctantly put up his staff. Believing this odd obedience would continue, he put out his hand in front of the wizard with an air of authority. "Now, return what you stole!" he commanded.

"It's too late for that since you blew up what I took!" the wizard scowled, by no means tamed just because he had not hit America on first sight.

Well, that would prove to be a problem, but America, determined not to relent until he had brought justice to the thieving wizard, demanded; "Well you should at least pay for it!"

The wizard opened his mouth. America knew what was coming next - when did the man ever have anything _nice _to say anyway? - but was prevented from hearing it by a hand which suddenly grabbed England's arm, pulling him back a few steps.

"E - England!" a young man - a thief by the looks of his outfit - panted. America started in surprise. The thief did not look particularly strong or intimidating but his likeness in design to America's was almost uncanny.

"Y - You…"

For a moment America struggled for words. Seeing that face that looked so like his own swept the words from under him.

It seemed England was also just noticing the astonishing similarities between their designs which, in a game with so many personal customisations, was unusual. All four players were silent for a moment; the fourth looking very uncomfortable under the mixed stares that passed from him to America.

Then, England, addressing his friend, voiced what they were all thinking.

"Hey, are you two long lost twins or something?"

"I don't have any brothers, England," America's look-alike glanced at him with mixed incredulity and solemnity.

"That's what father told you but - "

"So you're England, huh?" America

England turned back to him with a cold, unimpressed stare. "And what's your username?" he asked stiffly.

"America!" he thumped his chest proudly.

"Fine then, _America_," England sneered, somehow managing to make America's username sound vaguely like a dirty word. "So you want to play hero? I thought only big-headed paladin characters tried to stick their noses in other people's business."

America's cheeks flushed with indignation. "S - Shut up, eyebrows! Gunners are cool too!"

"E - Eyebrows?!" England instantly snapped. He would have lunged for America right there and then had his companion not held him back.

"Or are those things on your head fuzzy caterpillars!" America retorted as England struggled to break free of his companion's grip.

"Y - You!" he stabbed a finger at America. "If it's a fight you want I'll be more than willing to oblige you! Just don't come crying to me when I K.O your character!"

England's companion released him, though not without a look of horror on his face. "E - England, you can't! What if - "

England cracked his knuckles. "I'll be fine, Canada. I won't even break a sweat, dealing with an idiot like this," he drew out his staff.

"But - " his friend - Canada, was it? - protested but the two players were too engaged in the thought of beating the other up that they paid no attention to him.

"Fine! We can have a two-way battle!" America grinned, likewise drawing out his weapons. "If you wanna save your data now, I suggest you do so!"

At this point it was impossible to talk any sense into either players. Seeing this, Canada conceded with uneasy reluctance. Why was he always getting dragged into things like this?

"Are you sure about this, America-san?" Japan, who had not uttered a word of protest about being included in a battle that he did not quite understand, asked.

"Sure I'm sure!" America heartily slapped him around the back. "That jerk England needs to be taught a lesson! Heroes won't allow criminals and villains to break the law and not face punishment! You'll back me up, won't you, Japan?"

"Of course, America-san," he bowed.

"Oi! Idiot America!" America's attention snapped back to England's call. "The battlefield will be the plains just outside the South exit. If you want to run, do it now!"

XX

Canada had been hoping that America and Japan, his companion, would have enough sense to run away. Alas, no such luck. He never had any luck. Someone must have taken away those stats when his character had been created; their two opponents arrived as they had been told, on the field outside the southern exit. The town was just over the distance, a happy bright place where Canada had hoped to be at this moment.

They wasted no time with formalities or trash talk. Canada had only enough to time to quickly asses their opponents; a gunner and a samurai, both of decent levels, before weapons were drawn and the battle commenced.

Japan unsheathed his katana but had scarecely any time to use it. When he looked up, Canada had disappeared. No, that was not quite right, he saw a flash of the thief to his right, then again to his left. Closing his eyes, he focused his senses on feeling out Canada's presence.

There! Canada was rushing straight at him. With a yell, Japan raised his katana and brought it down upon Canada's head but the theif dropped to his knees upon the last moment and spun around him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back. The sharp edge of a small knife pressed itself against Japan's neck. leaving him wondering what the hell had happened.

For the first time, Japan was at loss for words. Such speed was impossible. There was no logical explanation for it except -

"Please don't try to do anything!" Canada half hissed, half pleaded with him.

Leaving only America and England to battle, the two did not hold back. England threw away another bottle of ether as he replenished his mana, and summoned a ball of bright blue fire, which he hurled in America's direction. Even without dodging, the fireball curved and exploded two meters to the right of his target.

"Where the hell are you aiming?" America cried, his glee barely restrained in his voice as he charged within firing range.

"Shut up! Shut up!" England jumped back, throwing a dozen more fire spells at America, all of which curved and hit places ridiculously far away from his actual target.

"That was way off!"

"I said shut up!"

It was strange, America observed; England had a cautious way of fighting, as if he did not want to lose a single hit point. He took extra pains in blocking or dodging America's bullets and every move he made was calculated to leave as little risk to himself as possible. It made England's movements both limited and predictable and, with England's terrible aim, America would have had no trouble overpowering him if not for the fact that the spells which, by some fluke, actually came close to him were so ferocious.

The heat of a fireball singed his clothes, immediately followed by a rain of icy daggers that forced him to leap backwards, stumbling America, tittered on his feet, the sharp point of an icicle cutting through his jacket and slicing his skin. He winced and leapt away, raising his guns with unsteady hands.

With a shout, America charged, discharging round after round at a furious speed. England lifted his staff to summon a protective barrier against which the bullets bounced off.

A ball of fire materialised at his summons. Yet when America charged again, England lifted the ball of fire above his head and slammed it into the ground where it turned black and exploded into a protective smokescreen.

"Hey, no fair!" America yelled as he lunged through the smoke and dust, coming too close for England's liking. He lashed out with his staff, and would have caught America on the side of his face had he not risen his arm to block at the last moment.

Leaping into the air, England aimed a blow at America's head, spinning around to catch him again with the other end. America deftly blocked it with the butt of both guns, and surged forward, pushing England back.

Weapons clashing, magic bursting on either side, they continued to fight as if possessed. England sent a thin shard of ice flying at him again. America dodged as another shot past his abdomen, failing to notice that England was charging immediately after it, his staff raised to strike.

"America-san, look out!" he heard Japan shout

Only just catching sight of England, America managed to side step, tripping England over with his legs. As the wizard fell, America's elbow buried into his back. He hit the ground and rolled over, firing a dangerous burst of white light whish missed even at such a short range and America rushed forward to stop the wizard from trying anything even more dangerous.

He was not quite sure what happened after that, but when he came to his senses England was on his back, arms outspread on either wide, panting heavily and America, likewise, struggled for breath. He sat on top of England's torso, the mouth of his pistol wedged firmly underneath England's jaw. There was a look of pure fear on his face. America realised that he was trembling, waiting for the trigger to be pulled.

"Don't shoot!" Canada screamed.

America instinctively stopped himself from pulling the trigger, but that did not lessen his exhilaration. He had not realised until this moment, how little he really expected to defeat the wizard. "I…I win!" he could hardly believe it himself. However, the thrill numbed into a dull ache in his arm and a sharp…pain?

He looked down at his left arm.

"Is that blood?" he heard England breathe.

"I - It's blood!" America jumped to his feet, horrified. "Holy crap, I'm bleeding! I'm bleeding and it really hurts!"

He was not the only one worried. Even England and Canada could not hide their unease. This was a virtual game designed for users of almost all ages. Pain and bloodshed were not supposed to be factors within The World.

The shock of seeing actual blood in a virtual game made Canada retreat a little, allowing Japan to rush to America's side.

"A - America-san, there must be a logical explanation for this! Maybe it's part of the game's new features, I heard they wanted to make it more realistic!"

"But it hurts!" he protested loudly.

"Oh don't be such a baby!" England scoffed.

"Aren't you just a little freaked out at this?" America cried, clutching his bleeding arm.

"Yes…a little," England reluctantly agreed, though he seemed to be thinking about something else entirely. He glanced back at Canada, who was equally perturbed.

"It was you!" America suddenly shouted, causing England to jump.

"What?"

"All these strange things happened after I met you!"

"Don't be daft, what do I have to do with anything?"

"Why don't _you_ tell me?"he demanded.

England sighed. America thought that his expression had softened a little but it was hard to tell. "Look, just contact a mod and tell them your problem. Maybe there's a glitch in your system of something."

"Is that why I can't log out?"

England looked at him with such surprise that America was, in turn, surprised as well. "You can't log out?" the wizard tilted his head to a side.

"We have already posted a notice in the forums. We are just waiting for the moderators to contact us," Japan said.

England jumped "Why didn't you say that sooner?!" he snapped, alarmed.

Digging into his pouch, Canada took out a portable Access gate, which unfolded in the air. With one last glance back at Japan and America, they wordlessly hurried through it, taking them to who knew where.

"Hey wait!" America tried to stop them but the portable gate vanished as well. "Those guys are definitely doing something wrong if they don't want the mods to find them," he muttered, his eyes never leaving the spot where they had vanished through the gate.

"Trying to cheat or to hack the game in order to gain advantages is not uncommon," Japan murmured, rummaging through his bag for potions and salves to help treat America's wound.

"Hacking, huh?" America looked thoughtful.

Perhaps it was just his righteous nature but he could not understand why anyone would want to hack or create cheats. Apart from it being completely unfair, it was much more fun to do things the normal way and work hard for your levels and stats. He would never understand the mind of a hacker.

Yet, from what he could see, England and his companion had not been malicious. Yes, England had a hell of a temper but he was not cruel. He did not seem to desire riches, power or rare items as most hackers did. America frowned. Why was he even bothered by that stupid wizard? He had met nothing but trouble and abuse after their unfortunate meeting.

After silently pondering the strange player for more than ten minutes, he had come to a conclusion; the less he saw of England, the better.

* * *

**A/N:** If anyone is upset about how quickly Japan lost, there is a reason for Canada's amazing speed stats, though you can probably figure it out seeing as they are playing an online game and he and his group don't seem to be above doing rather shady, prohibited things.

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, please drop me a line. I'll be forever grateful.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

**Welcome to the world**

**Chapter Four**

XX

"There. Is that better?" Japan asked, worry tracing along the thin lines of his frown.

"Thanks, Japan," America sighed, touching the gauze around his wound.

"This is serious," Japan straightened. "Maybe I should go and find a mod."

"Wait, Japan, don't leave me!" America, alarmed, lunged and caught onto the wide sleeves of Japan's clothes. It was not that he was scared, no, heroes did not get scared but bleeding and feeling pain was unusual, right? What if he had been cursed? What it there were ghosts of spirits behind this strange event.

Japan smiled and gently released himself from America's grip. "America-san, we should bring this to immediate attention!" he tried to calm him.

"Yes but - "

"If you need someone, contact Romano-san. He should still be logged in."

"Romano won't come!"

Japan shook his head "If think you're underestimating how much Romano-san actually likes you," he said and smiled when America snorted like a petulant child.

Well, what was he supposed to do now that Japan had left him as well? Unable to stay put, America busied himself by killing a few random monsters within sight of the town. He tried to think about what would happen to him next but that just hurt his head so he stopped. He thought about England and his companion, Canada, painting all sorts of elaborate pictures about what they were doing. Remembering England's face when he beat him and the wizard's terrible aim put a smile on his face, though it was only temporary.

He thought about home. His life was not bad, he had friends in real life and his studies were not too bad. Okay, so his grades could be better, but there was no particular reason why he would want to leave reality; this could not be one of those bizarre secret-wish-is-granted scenarios.

It was just about time for lunch when America realised that he was both bored and hungry. More than that, he would admit to himself that he was feeling slightly lonely as well. He never usually played by himself, not when his school buddies liked to skirmish with him and his online friends were almost always there whenever he logged in.

He was no veteran but America liked to believe that he had a good network of people he could contact. Where were they all now? He had been playing for a long time, since just after the original creator died and running The World had been taken over by Atlas Corp.

"Well, maybe I should message Romano after all," he sighed.

XX

It was obvious even without Canada's usual ability to sense how someone was feeling that England was in a very, very, _very _bad mood. It was as if he had 'I'm not speaking to anyone' pasted on his back; an order which was to be obeyed and respected at all costs.

He burst into their dirty abode, slamming the door behind him. Canada only just managed to catch it before it hit his face, and slowly closed the tavern door as England tore through the rest of the room. He unearthed his secret tea stash and, judging from how many packets he pulled out, he was going to start binge drinking soon.

Canada skirted around the temperamental wizard. They all knew how terrible England's aim was but usually the sheer force of his spells made up for it; one hit and it was usually all over, though Canada was secretly glad neither of them had killed the other; he could not remember that moment when America's guns had been pressed against England's jaw, ready to fire, without suffering another minor heart attack.

"Stupid America! Stupid, stupid, stupid…"

"Aren't you worried? He was bleeding and he could feel pain. That shouldn't happen in The World." At least, it should not happen to _players _of The World.

England threw another cup of hot tea down his throat and continued muttering darkly; "Stupid America! Go and die, America! Stupid, stupid, stupid…" If he did not know better, Canada would have thought that the wizard was putting a curse on America.

"Oh? England looks very nice tonight," Russia looked extremely content as he entered their dingy abode. The combined fact that he had been out slaying monsters all day coupled with England's current displeasure gave him an almost orgasmic shiver of delight.

Canada started. He had not even heard him or his sister enter until Russia had spoken, but for once he was thankful that he was not the only one trapped in a room with a moody wizard who had a terrible aim.

"Russia!" he leapt to his feet. Russia would, of course, care about Canada's worries more than England. "We met someone who has the…you know, the…virus," he lowered his voice as if someone other than their group was listening in on them at that very moment.

"Oh, I didn't notice you Canada. What was that you said?" Russia smiled.

Though he would have been slightly discouraged by the fact that nobody ever seemed to notice his presence, Canada felt that this matter was a little too urgent to ignore. He may not have known this America person all that well, but he could not leave an innocent player to the mercy of whatever was going on.

"He could feel pain and he said he couldn't log out. Doesn't that sound like the virus?"

Russia's smile became icy. "Da, that does indeed sound like the virus," his voice purred with the advent of danger. Russia purposefully swept past England, slowly seating himself in his usual chair as all eye followed his figure.

"I'll bring you something to eat, brother!" Belarus eagerly stepped into the kitchens.

"Ah, and a bottle of vodka too!" Russia called after, making himself comfortable. England muttered something under his breath and decided to sulk on top of a crate of tea in the corner.

Canada glanced from one unconcerned face to the next, waiting for one of them to leap up and charge out of the door. There was no point in holding his breath, however, as each member of his rag-tag party seemed equally nonchalant about the epidemic which was soon to spread throughout The World.

"D - Doesn't anyone care about this?!" he cried.

"Calm down, Canada, we can't rush into things," England sighed. He wanted more tea.

Belarus returned with a steaming meal and a bottle of vodka underneath her arm. She diligently

placed the food on the table in front of her brother, carefully wiping away the mess first with the sort of quiet, steadfast devotion that Canada both admired and pitied.

Russia ignored Belarus and poured himself a glass. "Who was it who had this virus?" he asked off-hand.

"Some stupid, arrogant, guy called America, a gunner type. Probably deserves it," England snorted. Canada frowned. Yes, England was a reasonable and, as he liked to put it 'gentlemanly' person, but he had a viciously vindictive streak Canada had hoped to worm out of his system for a while.

"Ah, so he has the virus?" Russia shrugged, pouring himself a glass of vodka. "In that case, before the mods get him. Let us take him in for…study," he smiled leisurely, his gaze seeping over them all as if daring one of them to protest, perhaps hoping even that someone would argue back.

England caught Russia's eye and glared at him before returning his unhappy gaze to the floor. His dislike of this new plan was obvious but Russia's smile left no room for argument and, thankfully, England, though vindictive, had enough sense not to pick a meaningless fight.

Victorious, Russia rose to his feet. "I assume that he is still in town, da? Would one of you please come with me? Since I am afraid I will not be able to recognise his face."

Canada nervously glanced at England, but received no help from the wizard; he was too lost to his foul temper to do anything for the rest of the evening. Sighing, Canada rose to his feet, reluctantly following I Russia's shadow.

XX

America found Romano binge drinking in the cheapest bar in all of Logos. It was dark and dank, and intolerably hot. The crowded tables gave off the stench of human sweat alcohol, smoke, and America was sure, vomit as well.

Candles dribbled wax onto the floor, oil lanterns swung from the heavy roof beams, as waitresses in scantily clad dresses ran along the ale-stained stone floor.

"Hey, Romano, how was the tournament?" America waved to him; a lone drinker with a free table all to himself in the darkest corner of the crowded bar.

Romano glared at him. If anything, America should have been able to tell from first glance that the archer was in a bad mood.

"I was close! I was this close!" Romano slammed his pitcher down, spilling ale all over the table.

America smiled, slipping into the seat on the opposite side of the table. "So you didn't get that bow?"

"Shut up! I got third place, didn't I? That's good enough," he snapped, though it was obvious to anyone that he was not happy with the outcome.

"Third place is cool," America tried pacify the irritated archer. He was in no mood to torment the poor player today but he was sure to remember this for a later date.

Romano snorted. He could be a ferocious drunk when incited and, at the moment, he was slowly working himself into a drunken fury through pitchers of ale and a side order of peanuts.

"Anyway, what's up? Still can't log out?" he pushed the bowl of peanuts towards America's side of the table.

"Japan's looking into it for me," America shrugged, throwing a handful of salted snacks into his mouth. "In the meantime, let's grab something to eat! I'm starving!" He ordered a steak meal from a passing waitress. Peanuts were definitely not enough to fill him up.

Romano looked at him as if he were an idiot. "Why? Your hit points don't need replenishing," he pointed. Food was the more luxurious and better tasting alternative to potions., which replenished a player's hit-points when they returned to town after a hard day's battling.

America shrugged. It was odd yes, but after the day's events, the discovery that he could both bleed and feel pain while within The World, he could no longer be bothered to be surprised.

"S'cuse me. Y're Am'rica, right?" A large, rather intimidating looking man approached their table.

America glanced him up and down; whoever he was, he was certainly not a waiter with his steak meal. The man did not look like any old, run of the mill player; he was a heavy blade type, with a large sword on his back and heavy armour from neck to toe but there was something in the way that he carried himself, which transmitted an air of importance.

"Y're Am'ric, r'ght?" the man repeated. America tilted his head in confusion. He could hardly understand what this man was saying.

"He's asking you if you're America," a smaller player stepped besides the man. America started. He did not know why he thought of England when he saw the other player. Yes, they were both wizards but unlike England's gloomy black cape, this player wore light blue, his hair was lighter too, and those eyes were certainly not the same startling green as England's.

"America? Yeah, that's me," he swivelled around on his seat to face the two men.

The wizard smiled. "I'm Finland. This is Sweden," he pointed to his friend "We're administrators. We got the message you left for the mods."

America almost leapt out of his seat for joy. "You did? That's great! Do you know what to do?"

"Please, not so loud," Finland pressed a finger to his lips. "Actually, there have been a number of reports about users unable to log-out."

Both America and Romano exchanged bewildered glances at this information. Neither had heard about this problem before. Why had there been no discussion about it on the forums?

However, before either could dwell on it for too long, Finland smiled. "If you'll come with us, we'll try and help you with your problem."

America felt a wave of tension that he had not realised he had been holding suddenly flow out of him. Finally, he could fix this problem, return to reality and get a good night's sleep. He had Japan to thank for such a quick response. He eagerly rose to his feet, intending to follow Finland. "Great! I'll be going Romano!"

The archer nodded and waved him away. The giant fuss America had kicked up turned out to be nothing after all.

The two administrators escorted America through the bar. Finland slipped into pace next to America whilst Sweden took the rear, casting wary glances over the heads of other players.

"America, could you tell us when you first noticed that you could not log out?" Finland asked as they walked.

America paused for thought. "Well it was this morning. I've been logged in for about twelve hours, real time, now!"

Finland nodded sympathetically/ "And during the day did you ever encounter a strange smell?"

"Strange smell? Ah, now that you mention it…"

"F'nland!" Sweden suddenly barrelled into the smaller man, knocking America down as well as they collided. A giant blast of smoke and fire erupted above them, just where their heads had been moments ago.

All three struggled to their feet as players flew the bar in panic. America squinted through the smoke and, as it receded, he could vaguely make out the outlines of two opposing figures.

There was another heavy blade user whose armour had been replaced by a long, snake-like scarf that hung sloppily over his shoulders. The man smiled, lavender eyes twinkling with delight, like a child who enjoyed pulling the wings off of insects.

When America's gaze swivelled to the person besides him, he was not sure whether to groan or to curse his ill luck. It was that thief again. The one that looked like him. What was his name again? Canada? And if he was here, that meant that England had to be around somewhere - although America could not see him at the moment. Why did their two groups have to meet so often? It was like God was playing some sort of twisted game with their Fate.

"Y - You!" Finland looked at Russia with a mixture of surprise and outrage. From appearances alone, it seemed that they had had dealing before.

"Isn't this fun?" Russia's smile did not reach his eyes. The sight was enough to send a shiver down one's spine.

"Fighting in urban areas is strictly prohibited!" Finland cried.

"Is it?" he asked, childishly feigning innocence.

Sweden pulled Finland back, stepping forward to protect him with his blade. "L't m' h'ndle th's!"

Both heavy blade users drew their swords at the same time and charged, steel ringing out in jubilation as they clashed. Finland waved his staff, summoning a magical circle around his feet but before he could complete his incantation, Canada was in front of him, forcing him to block or be struck down by his blades.

Complete chaos had overtaken the bar. Tables and chairs upturned and cards left abandoned, people continued to swarm outside, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Just as America drew his guns to join the fray, Canada was suddenly in front of him. He stepped back, unnerved. Just how the hell could anyone move so quickly?

Canada threw another smoke bomb above their heads; it exploded in mid-air, sending a cascade of thick smoke that swept over the entire bar.

America coughed and spluttered. He could hear Romano swearing and stumbling in the smoke but he could hardly see anything other than vague, shadowy silhouettes. Hands wrapped around his arm.

"Got you!"

"W - What!?" America instinctively drew back but Canada was refusing to relinquish his hold of him.

"Let's go!" Canada pushed America towards Russia, who managed to seize him in a vice-like grip. Unable to see anything through the thick smoke, America did not see the gloved fist until he felt it bury itself in his stomach. The unexpected pain made his head spin and his vision swim into the inky sea.

Canada sighed with relief as he watched Russia sling the unconscious America over his shoulder. He quickly followed Russia out of the bar when a hand lunged out of the smoke to grab his shoulder. He almost shrieked upon contact but a hand covered his mouth and pulled him back.

"America, please come this way!" Finland cried, dragging the hapless Canada away.

"W - what?" Canada squeaked. Yes, he would admit that he and America looked alike but this was ridiculous.

"Quickly! Let's get out of here!" Finland urged.

"W - Wait, I'm - "

He paused. Was it wise to say who he was? If they ever found out, he would be in deep trouble perhaps even deleted like Prussia. His heart thundering in his chest, Canada silently gestured for Russia to help him.

Turning, Russia simply mouthed the words 'Good luck!', waved and ran. Canada winced. He did not know what was worse; the actual act of being abandoned, or the fact that he was not surprised at all.

Canada just had no luck whatsoever.

* * *

Thank you to all reviewers! I'm having problems loading chapter five but it should be up soon.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to everyone who gave me encouragement. I'm glad to know I was just being my paranoid self. As a thank you, please have an extra-long chapter.

There were problems uploading this, which is why it's late. Also, scrrewed up my formatting so I had to spend an extra hour putting dialogue in the right place and inserting quotation marks back in and generally fixing all their screw ups. /annoyed. I hope I got all of them but I can never be too sure.

* * *

**Welcome to The World - Chapter 05**

XX

"…So you _lost _Canada?" England scowled, his frown deepening when he saw that Russia merely gave him a sunny smile in response.

He knew trying to kidnap that gun-toting idiot was a bad idea but he never expected things to go so horribly wrong and, worst of all, he was the only one who seemed to think that operation 'Kidnap A Retard' was anything but an amazing success; Belarus was already cooing about how amazing her darling brother was.

"But we gained America. It was a worthwhile trade," Russia's eyes flitted over to where America lay unconscious, strapped upright to one of their chairs by three yards of rope wrapped around his arm, legs and torso.

"W - Worthwhile!?" England cried with disbelief. "How could you leave a comrade like that? It the mods discover what he is - "

"My brother's decisions are always correct!" Belarus' hands all too quickly reached for her swords.

"Without Canada, how are we going to begin this…study?" England scrunched up his face with a look of distaste.

"Oh, I thought that you were more than sufficient."

England opened his mouth to protest but a soft groan from their captive's chair quickly silenced him. America

"Ah, my head!" America groaned as he woke up. "Where am I?" he asked groggily.

His eyes laid sight on England first and his face went through a series of changes so rapid that England would not have though tit possible to have so many expressions had he not seen them pass along America's face in a blink of an eye. At first he was shocked, but shock quickly died to confusion, then anger at being caught, then embarrassment for being seen in a helpless position by England before petulance finally overtook.

"Y - You!" America would have pointed a finger at him but for the fact that he quickly realised that he was tied quite securely to a chair. His arms were bound to the arm rests and his ankles strapped to the front legs. Thick rope wound around his chest and upper arms, binding him to the chair's back and, struggle as he might, he could not even loosen the bonds. "England!" he shouted "I should have known you would be behind it! What did you do? What do you want with me?"

The wizard in question surprised him by giving him a solemn look; America had expected to be yelled at again.

"We heard you have a virus. We just want to open you up and study it," England sighed.

America started. "V - virus? I don't know what you're talking about! I don't have a virus!"

"You must have it. You said that you couldn't log out. That's the work of the virus. It spreads through your smell sensors."

"Smell?"

"Did you ever notice a strange smell?"

America opened his mouth. He remembered that Finland had asked him the exact same question before he had been kidnapper, and he did remember Japan commenting on a really strong smell coming from him. If only he could remember…

"Ah, that bard gave me a flower that smelt really strong!" he cried, finally finding the memory of that strange bard that looked just like Romano and that grumpy heavy axe with blond hair. "What was his name again…there was a heavy axe wielder as well…"

However, as hard as he racked his memory for their names, he could not remember what those players had been called, he doubted that he could even remember their faces had not one of them looked almost exactly like Romano, but that was not important right now. As the force of what had happened to him full dawned, he realised that he was in a rather compromising position, one that he should try to get out of as soon as possible.

"Anyway, release me! I don't have time to talk with the likes of you and I need to contact those mods again!" America demanded, struggling against the ropes binding him to the chair. The knots held fast.

England snorted. "Those mods would have just locked you up in a cell!"

"What are you talking about?" he frowned.

England looked down on him with that same expression of self-superiority that made America want to stick his guns in his face and blow that smirk fright off. "You're infected," he said slowly, as if he were an idiot that would not understand otherwise. "They don't want the virus to spread so they'll quarantine you."

America laughed dryly. "I don't believe a word of that! If I really am infectious then shouldn't you back off?"

"Ah, the virus doesn't really matter to us," Russia's smile was unnerving; it reminded him of a child who liked to pull the wings off of flies. "We are being the good guys here and are trying to stop it at its source, da, America?"

"By stealing and fighting in public areas?" America spat. He had not been talking with him for more than five minutes and already he felt an immense dislike for him.

"Violence is the most effective method," Russia shrugged. His statement outraged America's fine sense of justice, he glared daggers at the man but his dislike seemed to make Russia happy in some bizarrely twisted way.

"Look!" England, sensing the oncoming conflict, parted them with impatience. "We want to stop the virus spreading, we also want to learn how to cure it for those who are already infected. If we don't have the ingredients or the money for them, we steal. If we can't access certain valuable pieces of data that will help us, we hack. The mods don't like this so they go after us."

America snorted. "It sounds like you're just getting in the way. If you left the mods to deal with this. Wouldn't it be fine?"

England shot him a sharp glare. "Would you just sit back and do nothing?" he snapped. "Something about you tells me that you wouldn't stand just waiting for things to clear up."

America turned his head away. Though he would never openly agree with anything that jerk England said, he would admit to himself that he would never be content just sitting back and letting other people solve things for him, but that was okay, right? He was the hero after all. He was supposed to take action. Who were these people? They were villains, the bad guys who stole and kidnapped people! They were not like him.

A small sigh escaped between England's lips. America wondered why he seemed so tired. Maybe he should get more sleep, maybe he should log off and go to bed, or grab something to eat; a good hamburger always made America feel better, but he did not voice those thoughts, England would just have scoffed at him anyway. Why could that grumpy old wizard not be any happier?

"Besides," England poked at America's pouting cheek, pushing out all the air, "we can't let the mods handle this. This is something we have to settle for ourselves." He glanced at Russia as he said this; it was a quick glance which lasted no more than mere seconds but America caught it.

"Anyway, let us take a look at you. Shall we, Belarus?" Russia turned to his sister. America paled. What were they going to do to him? What were they planning? He did not like the look of the scalpel in Belarus' right hand, or the very pointy needle in her left.

"Hey, wait! W - Wait!" he squirmed. It was no good; the ropes were not giving way. He tried to stand up an hobble away but Russia placed his hands firmly on the back of the seat, holding him there with a dentist's smile.

At Russia command, Belarus slowly approached his chair. America glowered at her, he was a hero; he would never crumble even if they tortured him!

Undeterred, Belarus glared right back and leaned over him with her needle.

"W - wait! Hold on!"

"Do it, Belarus!" Russia began to laugh.

"Wait a minute!"

Belarus rolled up America's sleeve, wiping her fingers over his skin before she plunged the thin needle into his arm. The sharp pain made him jump a little and he watched, still horrified by the sight of his blood, as Belarus took a sample.

"Will this be enough?" she jerked the needle out of his arm, intentionally causing a little extra pain.

England appraised the sample of red liquid. He glanced at America, whose eyes were a little teary from the pain but any sympathy he felt for the gunner he quickly squashed with a shake of his head, what did he care if Belarus roughened him up a little? It was no less than that arrogant idiot deserved.

"It would be better if Canada was here but I suppose so," he murmured, handing the blood sample back to Belarus. She nodded and hurried into the next room to store it somewhere, England following slowly after.

"Hey, wait!" America cried. "Hey, where are you all going?"

Russia's grip on the back of his chair tightened, reminding him that, although Belarus and England had left him, he was not completely alone, even if, at that moment, he wished that he was.

XX

Canada sat alone in a grey-lit, white washed waiting room, trying to make himself feel as small as possible. He had allowed himself to be taken to Grandia where one of the administrators' bases were. There, Finland and Sweden had briefly left him in order to fill in some mandatory paper work and now Canada's mind was abuzz with schemes to get as far away as possible before they came back.

"This is the worst!" he muttered to himself, blaming his ill-fortune for landing him in an awkward situation such as this. He wondered if England and the others would come for him but then he reasoned that they most likely must have forgotten about his existence by now.

He would not want them to come anyway, it was dangerous here in the mouth of the lion's den. So far, the administrators had not bothered to check who he was - did he really look that much like America? Their classes were different for goodness sake! - but he had better slip away before anyone wondered why he was holding a pair of daggers and not a pair of guns

While he was at it, he might as well make himself useful.

Slipping off of his seat, he quickly surveyed his surroundings before stealing out of the waiting room. No one stopped him.

As soon as he had left the room, Canada found himself at the end of one long corridor lined with doors. He opened the nearest door by a fraction and peeked inside; empty jail cells. Why were there cells here? Canada shuddered and moved on.

He opened door after door, quickly ducking away if he found those rooms occupied. Eventually, after making his way down several corridors, he thought he found what he was looking for.

It was an empty archive room. Filing cabinets reached the ceiling, lined up along the edge until there was no wall left to be seen.

Canada slipped in, silently closing the door behind him. He opened the first drawer and papers spilled out from where they had been mercilessly crammed in. Canada glanced through them before throwing them back, opening the next set of drawers and doing the same.

He was not sure what he expected to find, however, when he lighted upon a thick vanilla folder he was sure that he had hit the gold mine

"Moonflower virus? So that's what they're calling it," he could not help but smile; he wondered who had decided on such a pretty name for such a potentially deadly virus. His good mood quickly gave way to sombre thoughts, however, when he thought about Prussia; he wished that he was still with them, what would he say about the name 'Moonflower virus'? Something told Canada that he would not be pleased with his invention being given such a 'sissy' name.

Shaking away those depressing thoughts, he continued to flick through the files.

"Transferred via smell sensors; recommending all users to turn off their smell receptors. Quarantining users who are already infected," he read under his breath. "Attempts to help users log out…"

Canada's heart began to beat faster. The more he read the more he felt as if he were being pulled into a downward spiral, sucking at his very soul n an attempt to drag him down into a conspiracy he had just scratched the surface of. His eyes widened as he skimmed through another report dated back five months.

This was big news. Big, dangerous news.

Just as he was becoming engrossed in the report, the door snapped open. Canada quickly closed the cabinet, whirling around to face the man at the door.

"Wh't 're y' do'n, Am'rica? How'd y' g't h're?"Sweden's tall figure strolled in, dragging behind him his equally large sword.

"Ah…um…" Canada floundered for something to say. He had no experience lying, it always left a dirty spot on his conscience and he had no role models for ad lib; England and Belarus were always honest to the point of being brutal and Russia liked telling half-truths that twisted and turned but were still partly true nevertheless.

His hesitation aroused Sweden's suspicions. He squinted at Canada, looking _very_ closely he finally pronounced; "Y're n't Am'rica, ar' y'?"

Canada gulped. The cat and all its kittens were out of the bag now. "I - I'm Canada. It's a pleasure to meet -"

He could not even finish his sentence before Sweden's blade came crashing down upon him. Canada rolled away, quickly ducking underneath Sweden's arms. One glance was all he needed to know that there was no way he could beat this man in a battle of brute strength. There was only one option left open to him; run for it.

However, Sweden was not willing to let him escape so easily. The moment his first blow missed, he turned his blade and swept his sword in a low arch behind him. Canada jumped, missing the blow that would have cleft off his knees and tumbled towards the exit.

"Y're f'st!" Sweden grunted with exertion.

"Thank you, but I have to go now! Bye!" Canada quickly waved and made a break for the door, putting in all his speed just to make it before the alarm bells began ringing.

With flashing red lights and the sound of sirens at his heels, Canada briefly wondered if he would get out of this place alive. He would gladly eat England's burnt scones and drink vodka with Russia or be Belarus' practice target if only he managed to reach Logos safely.

He ran down the labyrinthine corridors, hoping that one way would lead to the exit. So far, he had had the bad luck of meeting with several mods, all of which he had managed to run past without engaging in a battle.

The security gates were now coming down in front of him, ready to trap him like a rat but he was not too worried; he could easily clear the gate with his speed. However, when he prepared to dive for it he tripped - over seemingly thing air. He did not know how else he could have tripped - and stumbled as the gates swiftly descended, locking him in.

Canada could have cried. He had absolutely the worst luck in the world.

XX

Three hours had not yet passed since Russia returned with America and already England was finding the gunner's mere presence an annoyance. He sat at the table watching America's stupid face make stupid expressions of hunger and listen to his stupid stomach stupidly rumble as if a volcano was erupting inside.

He could take it no more. England did not know exactly what it was about America that pissed him off so much but if things stayed as they were he would find himself trying to burn off that idiotic face with a fireball.

"Hey, Russia, why do we need to keep him? We've already got the sample we need!" he grumbled, chancing a glance at America. He really did look hungry.

"Ah, but if something happens we might need him again. Besides, he is quite cute, no?" Russia's decision to eat in front of them all was surely a ill-disguised form of torture for the hungry gunner.

England shuddered with disgust. "Cute? This thing?"

"Who're you calling a thing?" America snapped. His stomach growled. "And, I'm hungry. I'm tried too! My limbs are all stiff! You know, you could untie me!"

"And let you run away?" England countered. The two glared daggers at each other, their mutual dislike.

"He will not run. If he tries he will find one of my blades in his back," Russia smiled

"S - See?"

"Yes, I'm sure we all remember Belarus' amazing efforts to keep you stalled," England said sarcastically and America caught Belarus glared at his back. How did these people ever managed to live together, America had no idea. They felt more like enemies than friends or even comrades.

"Well, if America will be with us for a while we should give him a room. I do not wish to have to look at him every time I eat, da?"

"You were calling him cute just a minute ago," England snapped.

Russia nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, but I like killing cute things."

It felt as if the room had dropped a few degrees.

"Alright," England sighed, grabbing the back of America's chair with America still strapped into it. "We have a spare room. I'll drag him there."

As amusing as it was to hear England's grunts of exertion - as well as a few very colourful oaths - as he hauled him, chair and all, into an empty room, America was tried of being unable to move. His legs were cramped and his back was aching, not to mention that his arms had started to feel a little numb.

England dumped him in a room that looked more like a jail cell. The windows were boarded up, letting only a crack of sunlight through. The walls were white washed, the floor covered in dust, and a bow-legged bed was the only piece of furniture in the room.

"You know my back really aches," America whined as England wiped his hands of him.

"Shut up."

"So do my legs."

"Too bad."

America sighed. He was obviously not going to earn any sympathy from England any time soon. "Look, if I promise not to run away will you let me stretch a bit. I swear I won't run. Hero's honour," he promised.

"As if your word is good for anything!" England retorted.

"I always keep my promises!" America cried, offended.

He tried to look sincere as England scrutinised him but the burn of his stare made America twitch more than once.

"…Alright," England finally relinquished and, silently, America was cheering inside. The ropes were slowly loosened and America stood up, celebrating his freedom shaking out his cramped limbs. "I'll let you walk around the room a few times but if you try and run…" England's sentence keened off into an unspoken threat.

"Heh, your aim is terrible!" America, free of his restraints, no longer had to bother holding back what he was thinking anymore.

"Don't push it!" England warned him. A small ball of fire ignited above his palm but America was sure that he would not throw fire around in his own home. At least, he was half-sure anyway.

"Look, you don't seriously think you could hit me!" he laughed. Catching England's wrist , he pushed it down, away from his face.

England jumped back with an amusing yelp. "U - Unhand me you, plebeian! What would a gunner know about magic anyway?" he took back his hand, retreating to the furthest end of the room, close to the door in case he needed to escape.

"At least _I_ can hit my target!"

"I - " he tried to scowl but a blush of embarrassment hindered his success.

"You couldn't hit me in the face even if I stuck it right here!" America leaned closer until their noses were almost touching.

England's response was to turn bright red and push him away. America stumbled and fell to the floor, jumping to his feet quickly again before England decided to kick him whilst he was down.

"I - It's not my fault I have no accuracy anyway, it's Canada's!" England screeched.

"England, England, blaming your faults on others is - "

"Shut up! It really is Canada's fault, not that I hold it against him or anything. It's just, well, he's our main hacker and one day we tried to increase our stats but, well, it sort of went wrong. My power went up but my accuracy stats went all the way down. Canada's speed shot through the roof but as a result his luck plummeted!"

Though America would normally have no sympathy for the misfortunes of someone who had tried to do something as unheroic as hacking, he could not bring himself to gloat in front of England's flushed face. However, even he was surprised when he calmly took England by the wrist, manouvering the wixard's body so that he was standing at an angle.

"Here, why don't you try changing your stance a little? This way you'll be throwing straight,"

"I don't remember ever asking for your help!" England snatched back his hand with such ferociousness that America felt a little stung. He was only trying to help after all. What was England's problem with that?

"It was just a suggestion," he muttered sourly.

"Well if you're that desperate for me to burn you…"

"Heh, whatever. No matter how good you get you'll never hit anyone as awesome as me!"

England stared at him, unimpressed. "I believe that this discussion is over," he turned his back on America and stiffly marched out of the door, slamming it behind him with more force than necessary.

"Hey, wait!"

"He really doesn't trust me, huh?"

* * *

Damn you . I hope that whatever problems they have will be fixed soon. Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviewed. i hope that you liked this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

Apologies for the long wait. This fic isn't dead though. In fact, it's just starting! I've just been busy lately. That, and the part with Canada I completely rewrote. In the original it didn't end as it does here. I hope you enjoy it!

Sir Gawain of Camelot: You're close, very close, but you'll have to wait and see.

* * *

**Welcome to The World**

**- Chapter Six -**

XX

America was watching the others eat. More precisely he was watching England, who happened to be sitting opposite him in the hazardously messy main room, put another piece of broccoli in his mouth and chew. It was almost hypnotic, all that chewing. His stomach sounded for the umpteenth time, reminding America that he had never really gotten his meal before he had been kidnapped by these strange people.

"I thought you were supposed to feed the captive," he complained as loudly as he could, sure that it would annoy one, if not all of the group into giving him at least_ something_ to eat.

"Do you want something to eat?" England asked after half an hour of sitting, watching America's obnoxious face whilst he ate. This so-called guard duty was a joke, a very unfunny joke for that matter as it meant that England was stuck, bored out of his mind, with an annoying individual and not a single goddamn drop of tea to be found.

(His request for Belarus to bring him a cup was met with a frosty glare and, though Russia would cheerfully oblige him, said cup would probably come back poisoned. You know, just for a laugh)

This was another reason why he was missing Canada already. Good, sweet Canada would have brought him some delicious tea right now and maybe a stack of pancakes covered in maple syrup for good measure.

"Can I?" America looked at him with dog-like eagerness.

England half-smiled, half-grimaced. "I can make you something if you like," he offered.

"Ah, I would not recommend it. England's cooking is…"

"Shut it, Russia!" England snapped…as did the metal knife in Russia's hand.

"I don't mind! How bad can it be?" America was all eagerness at the thought of food. It felt like it had been years since he had eaten anything and one of the quirks of catching this virus had given him a sense of hunger that he was unfamiliar with in The World.

Pleased, England placed his steaming plate of meat and mixed vegetables in front of America's drooling mouth. The orange carrots and green branches of broccoli as well of the slightly pinkish meat lay all smothered in a heavy helping of gravy that smelt more enticing than it looked.

America picked up his fork with rapture, hands trembling as he cut away at the meat and brought the food into his mouth.

The moment it touched his tongue, he immediately spat it out.

Clutching his throat, he continued to splutter, hoping to get rid of the last poisonous traces in his mouth. God, was it even possible to create such a vile concoction through human hands? The meat had tasted like something akin to rotten eggs, moldy spinach and uncooked dough all at once.

"T - This is disgusting! I thought I was going to die!" he gasped, throwing back a glass of water down his throat.

The expression on England's face went through several phases. From pleasure it melted into indignation, then disgust, shame, and finally anger, which escalated into rage.

"Y - You can go ahead and die if that's what you want! I'll kill you myself!" he cried, slamming blazing palms on the table, which made the wood melt a little under the heat.

"I'm just stating the truth! It was awful!" America cried through tears of pain.

England looked ready to chuck a fireball at him. Fortunately he was not quite ready to burn their home down on America's account just yet. "Git!" he yelled and stormed off, leaving only America's chokes and the sound of Russia's quiet laughter.

XX

Alarm bells were still ringing when Canada gingerly picked himself up from the floor. He had the worst luck in the world to trip and fall now of all times.

He could not just summon a gate to transport him back could he? No, that was impossible, he was inside mod territory and the administrators were here. There was no lock to pick or terminal that he could hack from either. Sighing, he began to wish that he had been given a stronger type. He bet a heavy arm could just bust through the barrier, or maybe a wizard could blast through it with magic. Canada walked up to the metal door and gave it a kick.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" he groaned as he banged his fists against the security door in vain. It was just a matter of time before Sweden and Finland found him and then he knew what they would do. Yes, he was going to die. He was going to be deleted just like Prussia!

Canada was just entertaining the idea to charge at the door in front of him when he thought he heard the sound of something cracking.

He stepped back, wondering what that curious sound was. If he did not know better, he would have thought that it was coming from the other side of the security door.

Just as he was beginning to ponder this, large cracks formed along the metal door as it sudden blasted open with the force of an exploding volcano.

Canada fell to the floor, covering his head from the falling debris of the ruined door. When it was safe to look up he noticed two figures towering over. Panic bubbling in his chest, Canada quickly scrambled onto his knees. He had to be dreaming.

"Germany!? Italy!?" Canada stared at them as if they were figments of his mind. Had it come to this? Had all the pressure finally driven him insane? The two familiar figures stood before him, one smiling the other frowning at him with displeasure.

"Hey, look, it's Canada! Heeeey! Canada!" the Italy-shaped piece of his imagination waved at him.

Canada quickly slid off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. They were still standing there. "W – What are you two doing here?"

"We could ask you the same question, Canada," Germany folded his arms across his chest, unfazed by the fact that they were currently in mod territory with sirens blazing around them.

Canada jumped to his feet. "I – In any case, this is mod territory! Quickly, we have to get out of here before we're caught and deleted!

However, as desperate as Canada was to disappear, neither Germany nor Italy shared his sense of urgency. "Ciao, Canada! How've you been?" Italy asked as casually as if they had been meeting up on the sunny shore or Moro on a lazy summer afternoon.

"How have I been! How have I- " Canada forced himself to pause before he began to hyperventilate. Even when he calmed down, he still spoke, and felt, rather breathless. "I've been trying to stop you guys! What you're doing is crazy!"

"Are you upset with us?" Italy tilted his head with a mixture of disappointment and confusion.

Canada cringed a little at seeing Italy's innocent face. Why was he feeling like the bad guy here? "Well…a little. I…well, I don't think you should be doing this. What are you thinking?"

"Exactly the same thing as what Prussia was thinking," Germany said before Italy had time to answer. His hard eyes were a determined wall blocking all the imploring words and quiet persuasion Canada could ever utilise.

"You're still angry about that?" Canada looked regretful.

"Of course!"Germany snapped. The heat of his rage, caused Canada to jump back in shock. "You saw what the mods did to him! They deleted him!"

"But - "

He shook his head, regaining his solemn composure once more. Germany had always been the strong one, the determined one who would carry all the burdens of life if need be. "This is for the best. It may seem harsh at first but this is the right thing to do, I am sure of it. I believe in my brother's vision and I will finish the work he started. Please tell the others that they shouldn't try and stop us."

Canada did not know what to say. There was no way that he could just let them go but Germany was a stubborn man who would not be swayed. "What about you, Italy?" he turned to Germany's companion in a last ditch attempt to stop their antics. "What do _you_ think?"

"We don't have time for this!" Germany cut through him harshly and Canada was prone to agree. They really did not have time for this. "Now if you'll excuse us…"

"Where are you going? The exit is not that way!"

"We're not escaping, we're breaking in."

Canada blanched. Breaking in. To this fortress? What manner of suicide was this? Battling with the urge to just flee by himself, he ran in front of them, flinging his arms wide in an attempt to obstruct them from proceeding. "I can't let you do this! I - I'll stop you if I have to!" he cried, eyeing Germany's very large – and probably very sharp – battle axe as he did so.

Germany rubbed his temple with the points of his fingers. "You don't want to fight us, Canada, I know what you're like."

Canada stiffened. The clock was ticking. There was no time. Yes, he did not want to fight them if he did not have to, in fact he hated that they even had a reason to fight, but he could not just let them walk away either. What could he do to make them come with him? What could he say that would convince them to stop? When Prussia had been deleted their party broke into pieces and no amount of time seemed to have rectified the growing rift.

"Don't think," he warned, "that just because I'd rather not fight that I won't fight at all!"

"Germany, Canada's making a scary face!" Italy ducked behind Germany's back.

"I don't wish to fight you either Canada," Germany said with even more forcefulness. He took a step forward, hand reaching for his axe. "Do us all a favour. Go back to England and the others. You don't have to do anything. We'll handle everything and then you'll see; this was all for the best."

Canada took out his two daggers from their holders, hoping that he would not really have to use them.

XX

America was trying to make himself comfortable on the lumpy, make-shift bed he had been given when a knock sounded against the hollow door. His visitor did not wait for a confirmation before throwing open the door and America was greeted by the sight of a rather annoyed England holding out a steaming plate of food.

"It's dinner time," the wizard announced then, noticing the ill-hidden look of horror that befell America's expression sighed;"I didn't cook it alright?" and felt a distinct twitch of his eye as America suddenly lunged for the plate and began to wolf down large portions of boiled vegetables and meat at an astounding rate.

Crinkling his nose in disgust – and slight mortification – England turned on his heel, ready to storm out of the room and leave America to the company of his rapidly disappearing food.

"Hey wait!" America grabbed the corner of his cape before England could flee the sight of his appalling table manners.

"What is it?" England turned back irritably.

"Tell me about yourself."

"What?" The look on England's face was probably more insulting than the thoughts no doubt flying through his head at that moment. What kind of absurd, needless, flash of idiocy had brought up this unwarranted question?

He shrugged. "Well I don't know a thing about you or your friends except that you like to steal and hack and that you want to stop this virus. Maybe if we got to know each other you'd trust me more and stop being so stiff."

"I'm not stiff!"

"I'll go first!" America piped, for all intent and purposes, cheerfully ignoring England's quiet seething. "I live in Acraemi, I'm nineteen in real life, I'm gonna be attending uni this year, I like video games, films, airplanes and - and - "

"If you must do something with your mouth then eat," England said dryly, settling himself on the floor for what would probably be a long time.

"So what do_ you_ like?" America pursued, shoveling a forkful of roast beef into his mouth as he spoke. "Mmf. Anf what are foo dofing?"

"Huh?" England's expression was a mixture of disgust and scandal.

America swallowed. "In your life," he said, waving his fork around for enunciation. "What do you do? In the real world, I mean?"

England paused to consider this for a minute. However he decided not to answer America's innocent question and asked instead; "What will you be studying?"

"Huh?"

"At university. What will you be studying?"

Realisation lit up America's face. "Computer science. Ah, but I might dip into bio-engineering if I feel like it."

England made a small sound of wonderment, which made America briefly wonder whether he should be offended. England seemed so perfectly intent to stick with his first impression of him as a complete moron that any evidence proving otherwise was taken with more than a touch of cynicism.

"I always thought you were a dumbass. Never would've figured that you'd get onto a course like computer science. Besides your personality always screamed jock to me, but I guess you must be a nerd in real life!"

"Hey, science is cool, computers are cool; so computer science is doubly cool, and for your info I'm very popular at school!" America thumped his chest proudly. "I like robots too. I wanna specialise in artificial intelligence. You know, there's this theory that if you can download memories and all the data in your brain you can implant it into a robot and technically live forever! Whenever your body dies, you just implant your data into another body and keep on going! Awesome, isn't it?"

England pulled a face that could only be taken for disagreement. "Would you like to live forever?" he sighed.

"Well…not really, but I think the theory's cool," he replied without much thought and promptly began shoving more beef into his mouth. "How about you? You haven't said a word about yourself."

"Me? My life's not that interesting," England shrugged off his question with a roll of his eyes and a slightly bitter laugh.

"You don't have those eyebrows in real life, do you?" America scrutinised the two thick brows above England's eyes. If he tilted his head just slightly, they sort of looked like golden caterpillars…

"Wh - What's wrong with these eyebrows?" England slapped a flustered hand over them.

"No way! What kind of girl doesn't take care of her eyebrows?"

"What makes you think I'm a girl?!" he cried, partly disgusted, partly incredulous.

"Well, I assume you're a girl in real life since you're all pissy and that," America shrugged with jaw-dropping nonchalance.

England's mouth struggled open and closing, flapping like a fish without so much as a sound. Surrendering, he jumped to his feet, glaring heatedly at America's clueless face – the fact that he seemed clueless enraged him even more.

"I hope you enjoyed that meal, America," he seethed. "It. Was. Your. Last!"

The door slammed shut and America distinctly heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. Well that was just bizarre. Had it been something that he had said?

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Wow, how long has it been since an update? Sorry that the first thing since that long break is a rather insignificant chapter. It's like a transition stage chapter. Thank you to everyone who reviewed though and I hope you stick with this!

* * *

**Welcome to the world 07**

XX

Canada was only barely able to dodge the axe as it swung straight for his head. The blade buried itself in the side of the wall and Germany clicked his tongue in annoyance, as if he had really been planning on severing Canada's neck.

Canada jumped clear of the second swing, landing expertly on the broad side of Germany's blade and rushing at him with a well-timed kick to the head, which staggered but did not really hurt him. In fact, Canada was unsure how to finish this fight off quickly before the mods found them. It was true that he had far better speed, but Germany's endurance was proving to be a problem, coupled with the heavy armor he wore as though it were silk cloth.

Another blow slashed at his torso. Canada easily avoided it but the wind force blew him backwards, causing him to slightly lose his balance. Germany took instant advantage and charged him, connecting his heavy-plated shoulder against his chest.

Canada flew back into the wall, leaving a dent in the side as he collapsed. Germany lifted his axe above his head, his shadow towering and drowning Canada within it. Could he dodge in time? Surely his speed stats were good enough to easily jump clear but -

"Germany, wait!"

Italy's cry caused Germany to stop just as the blow was about to be delivered.

Canada secretly breathed a sigh of relief. For once, it seemed as though he would be lucky.

It seemed Germany's inability to say no to Italy had not changed since the old days. The man looked at his comrade with a mixture of exasperation and defeat. He understood Italy's look perfectly and could never say no.

However, it was with reluctance that he sheathed his axe again. Looking decidedly uneasy, Germany glanced at Canada and then back at Italy, muttering. "Get him out of here!"

The sirens were still wailing.

"Come on!" Italy pulled him along, through the hole in the door that Germany had created with his axe.

"No, I'm not going to - " Canada resisted but Italy could be strangely forceful when needed to.

"Please, Canada? Hey, please?" he implored , tugging him further and further towards the door.

"Italy…" Canada glanced back at Germany, who scowled in return, and to the sirens blazing over head. There really was not much time before the mods and administrators would find them.

Italy pulled him away with more force than Canada thought possible. Before he could truly comprehend the situation, he was dragged down the hallways, fleeing from every sound that could possibly be an administrator

Canada struggled to remove his arm from Italy's grip but a part of him also acknowledged the futility in returning to where Germany was. Though it felt as though he were leaving behind a comrade – if he could still consider Germany a comrade after all this time – due to his own cowardice, he knew that there was not much that could be done. In fact, more would be accomplished if he left now and returned to where England and Russia were.

They broke out from the building and continued running through the dense woods that surrounded the mod's territory. Canada glanced back furtively and was surprised to see how come it appeared on the outside when, inside the halls, it had been the very picture of chaos.

As soon as they were at a safe distance, Italy released Canada's hand, breathing hard. However, he hardly gave himself a moment to catch his breath before he turned his worried gaze to the building where they had left Germany to proceed alone.

"I need to get back to Germany," Italy hastily apologised and began to run back the way they had come.

"Wait, Italy that's suicide!" Canada tried to grab him but he slipped from his grip without a glance back at him.

It was known that Italy had a profound dislike of conflict, even to the extent that one could call him a coward, but whenever someone he cared for was in danger he seemed strangely oblivious to his own safety.

"Damn!" Canada let an uncharacteristic curse pass his lips as he watched Italy return into the depths of that terrifying place. His feet hesitated torn between following Italy back inside and reporting back to England and the others. Eventually, the latter side won and he started to run as far away from the mods as possible.

XX

Despite how angry England had seemed, America had been sure that it would all be forgotten about by the next morning. However, when he was woken by a swift knock to his door and the sight of Belarus bringing food, he had to wonder – firstly, whether she had poisoned it – and secondly if England had truly been hurt by his words.

No, surely he had to know that America had simply been joking. If not, then the guy had no sense of humor and deserved to be in a foul mood.

Or, so he thought at first, but a day passed and then two without seeing hide or hair of the grumpy mage. At this point, even the sight of those disastrously fuzzy eyebrows would have been welcome.

He tried talking to Belarus instead but she never answered him with anything but curt words and frosty glares. When he had asked where England had gone she had threatened to cut his tongue off.

Thus for the second day in a row, he was left to stare at the ceiling, counting the lines that he was convinced that he could see in the slightly discoloured paint.

He managed to reach twenty three lines when a sudden shout from the hallway startled him. The shout was followed by the marching of feet and the general hubbub of excitement. A moment later he heard footsteps hurrying towards him and his room door was shoved open.

"England? What's going on?" America glanced at him curiously.

Engl;and, flushed and breathing slightly harder than usual, seemed to have forgotten all about the previous incident, in which he had sworn never to talk to America again. With a strangely animated look on his face, he announced; "Canada's back."

America stood up immediately. Canada – that person who people claimed looked so much like him – where had he been all this time. Without a word, America followed England down the narrow hallway into main room where he had once found himself tied up and kidnapped. It felt like an eternity since that day.

"I can't believe you guys really forgot about me!" Canada was sitting, through but was more like a squat, between the unopened crates that made the room such a hazard as though he needed time to catch his breath.

"There, there," Russia was sympathetically patting Canada's back, much to Belarus' silent rage, though Russia's pats were more like painful slaps to his back.

"Well, while I was there I did do some digging," Canada coughed and looked at Russia with watery eyes, who simply smiled and "patted" him more encouragingly.

"What did you find out?" England, ignoring Canada's plight – perhaps he was simply not aware of it - asked with arms stubbornly crossed over his chest. It took one glance for America to discern that he was not in the best of moods.

XX

"I still can't get in contact with him," Japan sighed despairingly as he closed his email, slamming the hatch shut on his little blue pigeonhole.

"Then let's just leave the bastard!" Romano snorted as he wandered around the Forums, looking for topics that interested him. He was having enough trouble on his own. Another tournament entered and another time in which he had just fallen short of earning the first prize. He was sick of ranking second or third all of the time.

"Something is wrong."

"I'm sure the mods will sort it out in time," he insisted.

Japan shook his head. Unlike Romano, he could not simply let the mods handle everything. Something was strange; something crept his way up his spine and tickled his nerves uncomfortably, but it was an itch that was proving hard to scratch.

"But if what you told me about the incident at the tavern was correct, something seems to be going on," he muttered, more to himself as Romano had made it more than obvious that he was moe interested in finding more tournaments then listening to Japan's conspiracy theories.

"What are you going to do?" he grunted.

Japan shook his head. Was now the time to play nice? America's disappearance worried him too. Though he was not typically the type to intrude on something that might be none of his business, he had no time to waste thinking any more. "I'm going to take a look."

Romano jerked his head away from the notices pasted along one of the many pillars. Whenever Japan said something like that it usually meant only one thing…

"You're going to hack?!" he hissed, his eyes darting this way and that surreptitiously in case a mod should pass by at any moment. "You're hacking!? But I thought - "

"I have a great respect for the rules and fair play, which is why I have never attempted it before but this calls for desperate measures, Romano-san," Japan said sternly.

Romano snorted. When they had first met on Terra, another online rpg which had since closed down, Japan had been a minor but very successful cheater, hacking sporadically by competently in order to upgrade his statistics. However, that was in the past. He had gone the straight and narrow path now, probably due more to America's heroic ideals than he even realized.

"But if you're caught," Romano looked reproachful.

"Don't worry," Japan smiled with just a hint of satisfaction, "I am sure I will be fine."

Romano sighed. He had always had enough trouble dealing with America's idiocy, but he had never expected Japan to start going crazy as well. What could he possibly fid by hacking? Could he even hack well enough to find anything. Cheating a little to upgrade your character was one thing but this – this was a whole different ball game, and the mods would be sure to be merciless if they caught him.

Stupidity must be contagious.

He was ready with an arsenal of other discouragements but, as Romano began loading the first one the forums came alive with a dozen bright blue holographic screens popping into the air around them with an urgent announcement. Romano started with surprise, almost crying out. His eyes whipped round, bewildered, to the holographic blue boards surrounding him.

"What is it?!" he asked, trying not to sound too unnerved.

"Something about a virus," Japan murmured, leaning in to read the bright white lettering. For a moment he was silent, his eyes swiftly scanned the message for anything important when he suddenly straightened and pulled at Romano's sleeve. "Romano-san, take a look at this!"

XX

"They're calling it the moonflower virus," Canada explained when he had finally settled down long enough to catch his breath – and Russia finally allayed his "help". For once everyone was paying rapt attention to him, though he was unfortunately too tired to appreciate it. "Cases of those unable to log-out started five months ago," he explained.

"That long?" America was shocked. If it had been something that long ago surely he would have heard of it by now. Why was this the first time he had caught news of this?

"At first, it was only one incident so Atlas Corp could keep it all hush hush," England said, understanding America's surprised expression. "They quarantined the victim and then attempted a forced log-out by deleting the player's character but…" he looked mournful, "it ended in a death for the player both in this and in the other world."

America shuddered.

"The incident would have created such a scandal, driven Atlas Corp bankrupt and closed the game but they paid everyone to keep it silent and, over the previous five months nothing happened. The case was written off as a one-time freak accident."

"But now it's starting again and it's spreading to more than one person, right?" America murmured. He was starting to feel uncomfortable standing there – especially with Russia behind him – it felt as if he too would be deleted at any moment. He shook his head. Foolish thoughts…

Canada nodded. "Yes, they are currently keeping all infected players quarantined. They should be launching an announcement right now about the virus, advising players to change their settings so that they cannot receive smell."

"So that's how the virus is transmitted; through smell," England tapped the side of his nose, smiling wryly as if to say 'isn't that ironic?' but America was not sure where the irony was.

"Do they know how to get rid of it?" he asked.

England simply shrugged and Canada pushed a hand through his dirty, sweat-stained hair with a look that should probably have been read as 'long-suffering', though America took it as a look of impatience.

"Right now they're busy just containing it but I imagine that they are working on a way to remove the virus…"

XX

"So we just change our settings and we should be safe, right?" Romano leaned back after he had scanned the message. "Japan?"

"Smell," Japan's eyes moved restlessly over the smooth floor of the Forums. "When we met America last time, I smelt something weird around him…"

"Yeah, that's doesn't mean you have the virus. You know you're safe right?" Romano snorted but Japan did not answer; he only pales slightly and started running.

"Excuse me!" he darted past Romano, almost knocking him over as he ran.

XX

"Wow, you know your stuff," America leaned back. He hated to admit it, but he was slightly impressed. Only slightly though.

"Of course," Canada replied. "We have been around since before Atlas corp took over, since the very beginning when The World was created by Gran - err, Mr Rome," he blushed.

"Really? Wow!" Now America really was impressed. The original version of The World, the one created by Rome and Germania corps had been a short lived venture brought to its end by the untimely death of one of its creators. It had not been until a few years ago that Atlas corp had revived and revamped the project. Finding players of the original was as rare as finding Pandora's bracelet in a stack of Tiffany jewelry.

England moved away from the table. "America, we would like to keep you for observation. There is the possibility of the virus mutating."

"As in it will turn me into a lizard monster?"

"_As in _it might be able to overcome the smell block and infect people in other ways," he replied, coughing impatiently.

America stiffened. Turning into a lizard monster was pretty horrifying but possibly infecting many more people was just as scary. "That's dangerous! Are you sure that I shouldn't be quarantined?" he asked anxiously.

"For now you're fine. As long as people follow the mods advice, you can't infect them…yet." England's warning remained coiled on the tail end of his darkly spoken 'yet.'

"Ah, but Germany and Italy will change their plans too then," Canada pointed.

America looked between the two players. Why did it feel as if he had been dropped in the middle of some novel? Who were these people? What was going on? There were at least fifteen chapters of back-story he had missed and he was flummoxing to get a grip of the events that were revolving around him.

"Germany? Italy? Who are they?" he asked.

England pinned him with a look that said that he should have figured out that much by himself already. It was an expression that America did not appreciate. He would have liked to see England handle all the things that he was going through.

"The ones who are spreading the virus," he explained.

"Eh?"

England sighed. There would be a lot of explaining to do.

XX

America breathed out deeply. In again. Out. He slowly regulated his breathing until it felt as if he had a grip on his thoughts.

"So let me get this straight," he began. "Germany and Italy are two users who are spreading the virus."

"That's correct," England nodded, surveying him with the strict air of a teacher waiting for his fumbling student to make a mistake.

"You you guys used to be friends with them so you wanna find them and convince them to stop before the mods get them and punish them," he continued. "However, in case you can't stop them. You're working on a cure for this virus," America began ticking off his fingers. He was getting all A's so far.

"I'll start analysing the sample you gave us immediately," Canada grabbed the vial of America's blood – America's had almost forgotten about that traumatic experience - and retreated to his room.

England watched him go for a moment before turning back to address the gunner.

"Look, America, you can stay and help us by letting us observe your virus and its effects on you. We won't let your virus spread to others. You can't infect anyone for now as long as they've changed their settings as the mods suggest anyway. Or you can go back to the mods and let them put you in a cell until they figure something out, which will be God knows how long."

"What's happened to me in the real world?" he asked.

England shrugged with cruel nonchalance. "You're probably in a coma."

"A coma?!" America yelped, jumping to his feet. A coma? How could he be in a coma? What about his parents? Had they found his body and been worried when he refused to wake up? What about school? His friends? He loved The World but he loved the real world as well. He did not want to be separated from it.

England reaction to his shock was mercilessly nonchalant. "You'll be fine," he said, and America bet that England would have said exactly the same thing if he had been standing at that moment with a hacked off limb or half his brains blown out on the floor.

"What do you say?" England asked. "Will you join us?"

"By the way, the answer 'no' ends in death!" Russia piped in, readying his blade hopefully.

America struggled for the right words to vocalize the million and one thoughts running parallel through his head. Unable to grasp a single word, he finally surrendered with a sigh. "Alright. I'll help you," he conceded, though he was hardly happy about this unexpected turn of events.

* * *

I think most people can guess what the deal is with England and his group but I'm trying my best to unravel things slowly. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm sorry for the short length of this chapter. The next chapters will be back to usual length.

* * *

**Welcome to the World **

**- Chapter Eight - **

XX

America was watching the moon through the thin gap in the wall someone had the gall to call a window. Though it was not the real moon, just a virtual one, he was dwelling on sober thoughts about how the real moon was so much more beautiful when he heard a tentative knock on the door.

Must be Canada, he thought. Russia and England would have just barged in and Belarus had since made it clear that she would never go near him unless her beloved brother gave her a direct order.

"Come in," he called without bothering to move from the bed.

To his surprise, it was not the thief but England who poked his head into his barren room. "Hey," he said in greeting.

Surprised, America threw his legs off of the bed and sat up. "Hey, what's up?" he asked, slightly confused. He had been pretty sure that England had hated him after his 'girl' jab. Maybe he had come to strangle him in his sleep.

Opening the door wider, England slid in before softly shutting it behind him.

"Nothing. You just don't look very happy."

After that moment when Canada had explained what this virus was – The moonflower virus, wasn't it? – he had been oddly quiet. He supposed that he was lost in thought – though England would say that he never had any thoughts. He did not know what to do. He did not know what he was supposed to do. Joining these people still gave him misgivings but he also did not want to sit back and do nothing.

America shrugged. It was impossible to think that England; that selfish, bad-tempered, grumpy England was worried about him even the slightest.

"I'm just thinking about home. I bet my mom is freaking! My friends are probably worried sick as well. I'm gonna have to apologize when this is all over. I bet my mom will never let me go on the net again after this."

England blinked twice. "So you won't be coming back?"

"Of course I will! My mom will moan but if it's safe then there's no problem," America laughed, though he was slightly surprised by the bluntness of the question.

England glanced at the moon, saying nothing, and America could not help but fidget in the uncomfortable silence.

"You never told me about yourself though. You're not really a girl are you?" he asked after a moment longer. This awkward silence would smother him if he did not somehow dispel it.

England looked at him with a start and something of an annoyed scowl on his face. "Of course not! I'm perfectly male and I'm twenty-one years old!" he snapped.

"Twenty-one, huh? So you're older than me?" America mused.

"You can count. Well done," the sarcasm on England's tongue was always the most venomous.

Ignoring his tone, America continued to ask; "So are you a student? Or do you work?"

"Why do you want to know?" England looked at him contemptuously.

"Hey, where do you live?" America remained unfazed his usual foul temper.

"It's none of your business!"

America could not help but shake his head at how unsociable England was being. Hell, why did he even come into his room if he planned on doing nothing but keep his lips firmly shut? Well, he was not the kind of person who was easily deterred by unfriendliness, even though he knew very little about England, or any of his companions for that matter...

"Hey," he said just as the silence started to settle upon them again, "I've been thinking about it a lot but I was wondering…why is it I've never seen any of you log out?"

England winced. It was not bright enough to see his expression, and he quickly composed his features into a scowl, but America caught the look anyway.

"Well, if you _must_ know, I was born in Langden but I moved to Acraemi," England replied, though it was not the answer to the question America had wanted, he was more excited by the fact that they were actually a lot closer than he had thought, at least in real life they were.

"Hey, that's where I live!" he grinned.

"So you've told me," England did not look too happy that they were sharing the same continent with each other.

"When I finally manage to log off we should hang out!" America gushed, excitedly. Already his concerns about never waking up and never logging out had vanished. Had he really once entertained those gloomy thoughts? Of course he would be able to log out eventually! And after that they could -

"We hardly know each other!" England protested with such force, anyone but America would have been instantly offended.

"Well - "

England blew a few strands of hair out of his face. His frown deepened. "Take my advice. Keep this world and the other world separate. You'll be much happier that way," he grumbled, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. It appeared that conversation was over, and England was ready to leave America feeling puzzled and slightly off-put.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means what I just said." England closed – slammed, rather – the door.

America sighed and flopped onto his bed. Sometimes, it felt as if he would never understand what went through that irritable head.

Still….he could not shake the feeling that England was keeping secrets from him. In fact, they all were, and if there was one thing America's insatiable curiosity could not stand it was knowing that peple were keeping him in the dark.

* * *

XX


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry for the long wait. I'm thankful to everyone who wished for its continuation. I'm sorry this chapter doesn't deal with Japan, although he'll appear in the next one (if and when I get that up).

* * *

**Welcome to the World 09**

England stomped down the hall. He did not know why he was annoyed exactly, except that he had the distinct feel that he had been wronged by something or someone. He was in such a hurry that he bumped straight into Canada as he was turning the corner.

'E – England?' Canada stumbled back, catching himself before he could fall.

"Canada?" England stared at him, equally surprised.

'That was…America's room…' Canada's eyes flickered to the route England had just come from.

A blush leapt to his cheeks. "It's not what you think it was!" he snapped.

"I – I didn't say anything though!" Canada waved his hands about him innocently, praying England did not take out his frustration on him.

England, however, suddenly lost steam. He sagged. His shoulders slumped. "He said…when this is over…we should hang out in the real world…"

"Oh," Canada gave him a knowing look, which somehow only infuriated him more.

"This is stupid! Why would I want to hang out with that idiot?" he cursed and swore, stomping down the hallway and all the way back to his room.

As soon as he was there, England flung himself into bed and threw the covers over him, listening to the silence that seemed to mount in the darkness.

He was…so stupid. Somehow, when he had been talking with America he felt more self-conscious than usual and then, when America had asked him to hang out he had been…happy and also a little guilty. He blushed. America was so accepting of everything. He loved everything. In all his time in The World, from the moment he had lived with Grandpa Roma and Canada and the others to the point when Atlas Corp had taken over, he had never encountered anyone quite like him.

People he had met before had once said to him; 'Let's meet up in the real world' before. England never did, even when he promised he would. Sometimes, he would make up excuses until they gave up or got fed up with him. This was the first time, however, that England had felt guilty about it.

"This is stupid," he murmured to himself and buried his head further into his pillow.

XX

Germany clutched his bleeding arm, breathing heavily as he leaned against the cool rock face. It had been hard getting in and even harder getting out again after their sabotage attempt succeeded. He had not expected to see Canada there either. Seeing the face of his old comrade shook his resolve more than he had let slip, or than he wanted to admit either.

Italy crouched down beside him, strumming his instrument to the tune of a healing song. "G – Germany…are you okay?"

"Fine," he grunted. "We somehow managed to complete what we set out to do. The mods will be in chaos for some time and while they try to settle things we can make our move to the administration area."

Italy's gaze softened as his fingers plucked the strings of his instrument. "And then Prussia and Germany's dream will come true, won't it?"

Germany nodded, feeling his wounds close up and his energy slow restored as Italy's soothing song felt as though it was coursing through his veins. Just a little longer and the dream Prussia had wished for would be realised. Just a little longer and the revenge for his death would come to fruitation. It was like killing two birds with one stone.

"Soon no one will need to leave this world. They won't be forced to choose between this world and what they call reality. This world will become reality for everyone."

Italy nodded enthusiastically. "And then we won't have to say goodbye to anyone and everyone will be happy, won't they? This world is such a wonderful place after all!"

"That's right," Germany smiled weakly, patting Italy's head. "Just a little bit longer," he promised.

If his brother could see him now, would he be pleased? If Grandpa Rome was still alive, would he be proud?

XX

That morning, the smell of England's burnt cooking put everyone in bad spirits, including England himself. America awoke to the overpowering odour and the sound of Belarus bickering with England. They were both pointing at a map of The World spread over the table amongst plates of charred food and bottles of vodka.

"The Moonflower virus at a standstill for now but we have no idea whether it will mutate or adapt to the sensory blockers. We don't have a moment to lose!" England was insisting. It looked as though he had not slept well.

America strode into the room, opening his mouth to cheerily greet them when Canada burst in through the main entrance, breathing hard.

"G – Guy! Have you heard?"

"What do you suggest we do though? We can't locate Germany or Italy!" Belarus scowled.

"Guys, big news!"

"I think we can make an educated guess on where they are going though," England looked at her coolly, which America was sure made Belarus want to sharpen her knives on his skull.

"Listen to me!" Canada yelled.

They all turned around.

"Oh, Canada, you were here?" Russia smiled pleasantly.

"I've been here for a while now!" he said, exasperated. He had a look of long-suffering etched onto his face. "Anyway, have you heard the news? It's all over the forums and everything!" he came to the table where they were all sitting and put down a tablet with digital writing flashing across the screen.

"An attack on the mods?" Russia read with barely concealed delight.

"It was Germany and Italy! This was what they were doing when I saw them! They sabotaged them! Messed up all their moderator privileges and locked them out of their own boards!"

"Oh? Pretty smart of them to distract the mods like that."

England tapped the tablet. "If we can't come up with an anti-virus on our own, we need to find them soon. We know what their objective is. What would we do if we were them?"

"Wait, you know what their objective is? This is the first time I've heard about it!" America jumped in. He had not appreciated being left out of the conversation before but only now did he find an opening to barge in.

England turned round to him with a cold look. For some reason, he did not appear too friendly. "Didn't we tell you? Germany and Italy's objective is to spread the virus to as many people as possible of course. For now, perhaps we should head towards places of power like where the mod HQ and the administrator spheres are. I'm sure we could also hack into restricted areas of The World."

"It will be dangerous for us but if they're going anywhere it will be to restricted areas," Russia, for once, agreed quite easily.

"So where do we head first?" Belarus scowled. America was being ignored again and it did not sit well with him. He was part of the team now, wasn't he? Shouldn't he be more involved? Shouldn't he also take part in the decision making?

"How about here?" America strolled through them, almost unsettling Russia off of his seat. He struck his finger at random at a point on the map on the table.

"That's a restricted zone for moderators only," there was a hint of warning in Canada's voice.

"You can get us in there though, can't you?" America grinned, feeling more involved already.

Canada gulped. He obviously disliked the direction that his gung-ho companions were taking. "It might take a while but I'll try," he nodded.

XX

While Canada was working on hacking into one of the moderator-only areas, England stepped outside for some fresh air. America, not wishing to stay with Russia and Belarus, stepped out with him and they fell into pace side by side.

It was early morning and though the traders and NPC shop keepers were all out, proclaiming their wares, there were hardly any players to buy them. A few mages passed them, heading the other way toward one of the logging out rings, but other than that the streets had the appearance of an abandoned town.

"It sure is quiet," he murmured and tried not to shiver. He did not want England to know that he found the hollow echoes of the NPC's voice ringing out in the silence to be creepy. He did not want him to think that he was scared.

"Less people are coming to The World because of the virus. Even though they've temporarily stopped the spread, no one wants to risk it," England cast his glance around, his nose wrinkled at the pitiful display of stalls.

That made sense. If America could have, he would have logged out too. He wondered how England and the others could remain so fearless – or rather nonchalant – when there was an epidemic going around. Or maybe…

"Hey, I have a question for you."

England huffed. "For the last time, America, the reason why donuts have a hole in the middle is because - "

"That's not it!" America snapped, blushing. "It's you. You and your whole gang and Italy and Germany."

"What about us?"

America paused. He really did not understand England at all, but somehow he wanted to know more. It was not like him to throw up his hands and give up. When someone distanced himself from him, he tried three times as hard to close that distance.

Just as he thought of how to approach the subject, he felt a chill run down the back of his neck. He barely drew another breath when suddenly he felt England push him back.

He stumbled, and it was fortunate that he did, for a blade buried itself in the ground where he had stood not moments ago.

"Shit!" America swore as he narrowly missed the attack. It was not a human moderator this time but a modbot, an automatic peacekeeper and purger with no logic but what was contained in its programming.

"Mods? But I thought - "

There was no time to finish his sentence. The bot moved in swiftly for the kill, extending its weapons with every attempt to cut and kill.

"C'mon, let's get out of here!" England made to grab him but the bot intervened, forcing them apart with its drill-like blades.

"America!" England cried as the blade cut his arm. America cried out and rolled onto the ground.

England began to chant a quick spell, calling up shards of ice to his aid. The flying machine swerved and went for him as the needles shot forth. Most of them missed and the machine managed to catch England on the arm before he could fully dodge, slicing his sleeve. America hauled himself up and loaded armour-piercing bullets into his gun. His shots distracted the bot enough to veer his attention away from England, who was recovered and was chanting again.

As the bot sped towards America, a sudden ball of black flames engulfed it. America shot one round, two, straight at the sensors. The bot fizzled and crackled. Smoke exploded from inside it and it fell like a dented trash can to the floor.

America hardly had time to put his pistols away before being grabbed by England, hauled away through the streets and down secluded alleyways.

As soon as they were far enough, they stopped to catch their breath.

"England, are you okay?" America grabbed him by the shoulders, looking him over frantically.

England flushed and broke free. "I'm fine," he said, gripping his arm.

America spotted something red on his torn sleeve. "You're hurt," he grabbed England's injured arm, holding it up for inspection.

"I said I'm fine!" England snapped. He tried to wrench his arm away but America kept his grip firm.

"You're bleeding!" he cried. He was not as surprised as he thought his would be. He had already had a hunch that something like this was going on and here it was; proof of his theory and the reason why England and the others were not concerned about the virus infecting them. "I've had my suspicions for a while but this proves it. England, you…you can't log out either, can you?"

England made several attempts to speak. He opened and closed his mouth several times but nothing came out. Eventually he stopped fishing for an excuse. He hung his head.

"You're right…and you're wrong…" he whispered. "I can't log out but…" he hesitated. His hands trembled. For the first time, it looked as though he wanted to cry.

Why, America wondered, did he have such an expression on his face? What was it that he was hiding? Or was he really so untrustworthy that England could not tell him? Somehow, the thought of that pierced him more than the pain in his arm.

"It's fine," he muttered glumly. "If you don't want to tell me…"

"Wait, America!" England caught his sleeve. "H – Have you ever heard of Roma before?"

"Roma?" America screwed up his face. It sounded familiar…

"He was the original creator of The World. After his death, Atlas Corp took over and turned it into The World that we know today. We called him Grandpa Rome."

Oh yes, he remembered one of them saying that they had been around since Roma started the world, which made them one of the first players of The World but…

"Wait…I think I heard about Atlas Corp taking over on the news…" Alfred hummed, trying to remember. However, the chilling sound of sirens cut through his thoughts.

"There are more moderators?" England hissed, poking his head around the corner of the alleyway. He shook his head. "No, mod-bots. They're probably filling in for the moderators since they're all occupied with the chaos Germany and Italy created."

"But why are they here?" America wondered.

"That's what I would like to know," England hissed.

* * *

XX


End file.
